Flesh And Blood
by Vogelfrei
Summary: My first fanfiction. My inspiration for writing this was to explore a time period of the series that I always wanted to know more about. The focus is on Piccolo, but not entirely. Please R&R!
1. Day of Reckoning

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z or anything affiliated with it.

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_Gohan… please… don't die…_

Even against the bulk of all that had happened, among the excited and confused outbursts, the strange and invading presence of the crowd that buzzed around him, the newness of it all—of being dead—Piccolo could not stop thinking about the words that he had uttered to Son Gohan just before he had succumbed. And had he cried? Had he really cried in front of that child? The Namekian snorted and pushed the turbulent memory from his thoughts, and for the first time he made an effort to take careful notice of his surroundings.

The entrance to Enma Daiou's court was typically a frantic and frenzied place—for it was where all the souls of the dead ended up, to be judged—but at this moment things seemed to teeter dangerously on the edge of a chaotic abyss, the atmosphere even more disturbed than was usual. And no wonder: among the long line of pretty puffy spirits, spirits shoving and pushing one another for place, for rank, stood the foursome of Z-Senshi who had fallen in the battle against the Saiyans—the bandit Yamcha, the Crane practitioners Tenshinhan and Chiaoutzu, and, looking the most displeased by the scene, the Demon King Piccolo, who had moments earlier given his life to save that of a child.

He would have spat at that, had there not been a large sign hanging nearby shoving a loud red list of rules into the face of every passerby, one of them forcefully proclaiming "NO SPITTING".

Yamcha let out a low whistle, glancing around with a sidewinder smile. "So this is heaven, is it? It's not really as spectacular as I'd hoped."

Tenshinhan gave the rogue a sidelong look. "Not heaven yet. We still need to be judged…" The triclops pointed in the direction of a large building directly ahead of them, its gargantuan set of doors swung open. All four of them could get more than an eyeful of the massive figure seated inside (at a massive desk with massive chair), his almost devilish appearance crowning the already intimidating nature of his work: to mete out souls to either heaven or hell based on their deeds in life.

"Yai! By him?!" Yamcha's cool smile turned into an awkward sort of alarm.

"Yup. You'd better watch out where he puts you," Tenshinhan retorted, sharing a smile with his diminutive friend Chiaoutzu. "What with all of the things you've stolen."

"Hey, shut up. I died protecting the Earth! There oughta be some sort of VIP room for people who do that." But the others didn't hear him, because the line was moving.

Well, that isn't precisely true. Piccolo heard everything that was said, and his thoughts began to shift their focus from his immediate past to his immediate future. He remained aloof from the others, but moved slowly and rather obediently among the herd of souls, so in a way he was still going with them. As they approached the main chamber of the court, he found himself eyeing Enma Daiou and housing some rather dangerous thoughts.

_Even if he does try to send me to hell, I can probably take him… yeah. He's big, but I doubt he's all that powerful. He wouldn't need his frightening appearance if he was in possession of real power_.

Piccolo's thoughts assured him, but didn't really persuade him. Somewhere deep in his chest, or perhaps it was his abdomen, he could sense a small tight knot of fear, a knot growing more prevalent with each step they took toward the courtroom. It took Enma only moments to judge each soul; he would look at it, glancing back and forth from the spirit in question to the pages of a large book left always open on his desktop, and in moments he would wave his hand and send it on its way: either onward to a glorious afterlife in heaven or down to hell, just below the thick yellow clouds that seemed to act as a pleasant-looking sort of deception concerning the nature of the fate of those wicked deceased.

It was because he knew he wouldn't be wished back. His link with Kami had already informed him that Son had defeated the Saiyans and was recuperating on Earth. That meant that before too long they would summon the dragon and wish everyone back who had died. Everyone, of course, excepting him. Piccolo felt himself grow bitter within—here he had done more against the Saiyans than any one of those three, here he had given his life to save that of Goku's only son, and he was going to be left to rot in hell for the rest of time because his fate happened to be in the hands of the friends of his enemy. What a cursed existence was his.

He felt himself snap back to awareness as a rather booming voice addressed the four of them. They now stood in Enma's courtroom, all but naked on the vast floor in front of the large desk, awaiting judgment. All around them horned blue assistants darted to and fro, busying themselves with all of the mundane tasks of keeping the cosmic courtroom from falling into disarray. And before them sat Enma, ferocious in his sense of righteousness, although his first words carried with them the slightly calming lilt of recognition.

"Ahh yes. The four warriors who died in the battle to protect the planet Earth… Yamcha, Tenshinhan, Chiaoutzu, and…" His eyes stopped on Piccolo and narrowed slightly. "Piccolo. Usually demons skip right past this part of their journey and end up straight in hell. But perhaps Kami-sama was right about you."

Piccolo panicked immediately. _Great. If Kami's in with his guy, I have no chance of ever again seeing the light of day._ He became more angry with himself. _If only I hadn't thrown myself in front of that stupid kid. Look where it's gotten me_.

Enma went on.

"I will judge you one by one, according to your deeds."

Yamcha gulped audibly, and Piccolo felt himself beginning to sweat.

"Yamcha—for many years you led a life of crime, stealing for your own personal benefit. You have lied, cheated, and lusted after women. How do you plead?"

"Er… I—I only stole from the rich! And I only lusted after ugly women! Dogs!" Yamcha made a face, but it disappeared at the hard glare he received from Enma. He fell into a muted state.

After a thunderous silence, Enma spoke. "You are guilty of those things, no ifs, ands, or buts. But… you laid down your life for the sake of the innocent people of Earth, and for that you will be allowed passage to a most divine place indeed."

The others could see the slow uptake and eventual party inside Yamcha's head, but before he had time to proclaim his joy, Enma moved on.

"Tenshinhan… Chiaoutzu. For quite some time the two of you served an underhanded master and even carried out his dirty work. But like Yamcha, you both gave your lives to protect your planet and the people on it, and for that I grant you similar passage, to hone your skills beneath the tutelage of a wondrous God."

Tenshinhan bowed to Enma with respect, and Chiaoutzu followed suit.

Finally, Enma settled his stern gaze on Piccolo's tall, lithe figure, the demon hanging somewhere near the back of the group.

"Piccolo… son of the Demon King. Or perhaps you are simply Daimao reincarnated. Since your creation you have longed for destruction, for power; you have pined to take the Earth as your own."

_Oh brother._

The green face cringed slightly, eyes narrowing with disdain toward Enma. He could feel the others looking at him, but he did not grant them the honor of returning their naïve brand of gawking stupidity. Yeah, that was him, if one could believe in such simplicities. He felt an odd mixture of pride and resentment brewing within his chest. He _was_ the Demon King…

_Just sentence me already._

"For your crimes I would like to send you straight to hell and never see you again."

_Fine, do it. Stop toying with me!_

"But… I cannot."

_What?_

"You sacrificed yourself to save an innocent child. A noble act… one might even call it an act of love."

Piccolo felt his cheeks burn. He glared at Enma. He hated him for bringing that up, for belittling the status that he had just endowed upon him moments earlier. Demons didn't love. He wanted to scream at the others to stop looking at him, but he felt that he could not speak in the face of it all.

"For that I will grant you the same fate as these three, as reluctant as I am to actually spare you. Kami insists you've changed. We shall see." He went on. "You will all four be allowed the arduous journey over the Serpent Road, to the planet of the North Kaio, in order to receive training from him. I suspect in a year's time or so you will probably be wished back to life. But that is not my concern. Now, go."

Enma said nothing more, and after a moment's deliberation the four of them shuffled toward an almost normal-sized opening at the back of the room behind Enma, each warrior moving slowly and lightly beneath a wave of cautious optimism. No one voiced his joy at being spared an eternity in hell, no one gave expression to his anticipation at the chance of being able to train beneath a God—the same God under which Son Goku had become so dazzlingly strong.

Piccolo did not know what to feel. He wanted to call it relief, but it was a strained sort of relief, caught within a net of certain convictions the likes of which he did not know whether to carry with him or discard on the way to the end of Serpent Road.

And soon the four of them stood before the winding, endless, fearsome stone pathway, their eyes following its dizzy trek into the clouds until they could see it no longer.

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So that's chapter 1. Please read/review. I'll try to get chapter 2 up soon (depending on the tone of reviews...).


	2. The Journey There

For the second time that afternoon (or morning, or night, none of them could tell anymore), Yamcha let loose a low whistle meant to signify his being impressed with something. He had good enough reason, however, as the four of them—wayward martial artists brought together in a fight for their own survival—now stood before the Serpent Road, its winding and lumbering greatness capturing the image of the horizon; it was a formidable sight even to those as powerful as the four of them considered themselves to be. In a way, its majesty was meant to foreshadow the presence of the great God at the road's end, the Kaio of the North.

"So, Goku beat this thing, huh?" Tenshinhan smiled a little, thinking of his rival-turned-friend back on Earth.

"Yeah, twice!" Chiaoutzu piped in.

"Well, in that case, I _know_ we can do it," said Yamcha, which caused Tenshinhan and Chiaoutzu to each give him a confident nod in turn.

Piccolo snorted from behind them, rather pointedly.

Yamcha turned his head, his smile turning into frown of indignation. "What's the joke, Piccolo? You know you wouldn't even be here if it weren't for Kami."

The green-skinned warrior raised a ridged brow toward Yamcha, his face darkening with a glower that he wore whenever he felt he was dealing with an inferior being. "The joke is listening to you three stand around and compare yourselves to Son Goku. You know they say that actions speak louder than words." A smirk touched the Namekian's lips once the reprimand had departed them.

Yamcha was about to snap something back when Tenshinhan cut in.

"You're right, Piccolo. Let's stop gawking and get going." Tenshinhan's three eyes regarded the tall demon with a quiet warrior's respect, a respect that the triclops was not sure Piccolo felt in return. Before anyone else could say anything, Tenshinhan turned and started onto the road, and the other three quietly followed him.

(Some few hours/days later…)

Standing on the stone road, with each end stretching out into puffy yellow obscurity, without the warmth of the sun or the touch of the wind against them, the four warrior journeymen began to understand—gradually, with each monotonous step—just what it meant to truly be _dead_. They did not need to eat or sleep, they did not experience the inner-sensations that came with possessing a physical body, they did not recognize change within themselves at all; such a state left it very difficult to measure time, to measure how long anything had been going on, or how long they had been doing anything. So, naturally, it became impossible to tell how long they had been walking on the Serpent Road, or how far they had gone, or how far they needed to go.

Piccolo was content, however, as content as he had been since he had arrived in the afterlife some… well, some time ago. The tedium of the journey had silenced Tenshinhan, Chiaoutzu, and Yamcha, roughly in that order, and he could walk ahead of them swiftly and almost pretend that they weren't behind him. Better still, however, was that he had nothing immediate to focus on: as far as he knew they weren't even making any progress, and sometimes, when one has a lot to think about, a sense of motionlessness is the best catalyst for organizing one's feelings. And so Piccolo tried to do precisely that. Stasis as a basis for change—that is about as ironic as a demon giving his life for a boy's.

The Namekian closed his eyes and extended his senses. He knew that he wouldn't fall if he could mentally perceive a change in the road, and he trusted his own instincts enough to allow himself a sort of walking meditation.

_What I did had consequences, obviously… immediate ones, yes, but perhaps consequences that have not yet surfaced. Was it my destiny to die for that boy, or to invest anything in him at all, for that matter? Perhaps I have strayed from my path… _

… _but what is my path? It is in my blood to kill Son Goku. It is my birthright, my destiny, my father's dying wish. But death is not permanent, and I do not feel satisfied. I cannot be satisfied with these hollow memories, these hollow ideals, this hollow fate._

Piccolo felt a deep sense of loss inside of him that made him visibly quiver for just a moment. It was just enough to shake his mental focus, though he did not take notice, his sensibilities too shrouded and deafened by the wide and heavy impact of the pinprick realizations that blended into one another and hit him all at once.

_I have no purpose now. I was created as a mere afterthought, a desperate extension, a trump card… I have seen my destiny to its bitter end. I have nothing now but the repercussions of my actions, this meandering afterlife._

He felt his whole being heavy and heaving with the weight of the next thought, spirit cracking beneath it as it came.

_I am a meaningless picture of erased life, a picture clothed only in consequences, in things bygone and yet-to-come…_

Suddenly Yamcha's voice broke through Piccolo's silent soliloquy.

"—Look out, Piccolo!"

Piccolo's eyes snapped open and he found the road curving sharply to the right in front of him, so that another step would send him over its edge and down to the depths of hell below. He tried to stop himself, but could not; he tripped over the edge, letting out a sharp cry as the vicious row of spikes at the road's perimeter bit into the lower part of his leg, drawing purple blood out as if a small fountain were letting it go. Piccolo's mind panicked and up from his belly surfaced a small, resigned sensation of relief, relief that he would now no longer have to worry over his own fate.

But such relief did not come. Tenshinhan, Yamcha, and Chiaoutzu caught hold of Piccolo around the cape and shoulder pads, grunting with effort for a moment before pulling him hard back onto the road; he fell backward onto them and they all four toppled over.

A moment of silence passed, the famous quartet of martial artists laying in a haphazard bundle on the road in the middle of nowhere.

"Not a _word_," Piccolo growled, voice spiraling upward into a blanket of clouds.

(Some few more hours or days later…)

"Look! There it is down there!"

"Alright!"

"We finally made it…"

Chiaoutzu, Yamcha and Tenshinhan all stood at the tip of the Serpent Road, where moments earlier, just as Son Goku had, they had all been scratching their heads in bewilderment at where they were supposed to go next. It had been a long and arduous journey whose duration not one of them could recount, and all of the walking and occasional talking had instilled in each warrior a powerful longing to get back to some sort of combat, even if it was simply participating in sparring matches against one another. Particularly Tenshinhan wanted to try his hand against Piccolo, whose power and fighting prowess seemed the only likely challenge at the time. Of course, he would never say that to Chiaoutzu or Yamcha.

It seemed Tenshinhan would not have to wait very long, for at precisely the next moment there came up from behind them a fury of green limbs and a surge of ki made poignant by the feeling of focused power and brooding darkness. Yamcha turned toward the commotion, his face twisting from excitement to horror as one of Piccolo's hard bony elbows connected with the center of his forehead, sending him flying right off of the end of the Serpent Road with a pained yelp. Yamcha tried to steady himself in mid-fall, but suddenly he dropped like a sack of bricks toward the small green planet below them.

No one had time to remark upon the strange gravitational occurrence, however, as the swish of a great white cape accompanied by another yelp of surprise and pain sent Chiaoutzu off of the edge of the road, white face reddened by a fairly recognizable fist-shaped dent in the side of his head. The little prince flailed his limbs for a moment before falling toward the planet just as Yamcha had, calling Tenshinhan's name in warning as he fell.

Piccolo then stood before Tenshinhan at the edge of the road, arms folded over his chest, a satisfied smirk playing over his typically scowling face.

"It's your turn now. I'm gonna give you three black eyes."

"Not if I can help it."

Tenshinhan, trying to take his foe by surprise, quickly dropped to the ground, attempting to take Piccolo's balance with a hard two-legged sweep. Piccolo simply hopped the legs as if he were playing jump-rope, however, and a few moments later delivered a staggering kick to Tenshinhan's jaw, who was all but defenseless. The triclops skidded off of the edge of the road and tumbled wildly toward the planet below.

Piccolo smiled wildly, feeling better than he had in a long time. Without wasting much time in celebration of the small triumph (and perhaps revenge) against his three death-mates, the Namekian stepped gracefully off of the road, and fell toward the planet. Suddenly, though, he felt himself being pulled downward out of control. Before he had much time to react he was crashing into the surface of the planet with a resounding thud.

His ears buzzed a little, though he felt certain he heard voices…

"Dodonpa!"

"Wolf Fang Fist!"

"Kikou Ho!"

Then a new voice came.

"Everyone CUT IT OUT! RIGHT NOW!"

Suddenly there was silence, and hushed anticipatory breath. Piccolo groaned and began to get to his feet, vision focusing on the three Z-Senshi, who all seemed to be looking toward a small building that seemed to be one of the little planet's only landmarks (besides, they would find later, a tree, and an old antique car).

"That's better. So… I trust you're the warriors who died fighting the Saiyans on Earth. Veeeery noble thing you did. I am the North Kaio and this is my home. I hope you like it because you'll be spending a lot of time here!"

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Chapter 3 should be up soon, which is where I may begin to deviate a little from the storyline. Well, not deviate... merely illuminate. Hope you enjoy. Please read/review. 


	3. North Kaio's Challenge

There was a fairly dramatic silence among the new arrivals upon viewing the North Kaio that seemed even more resounding as a result of its presence on such a tiny, funny-looking little planet. Kaio seemed perfectly capable of basking in such silence, which he took immediately to be the quietude of profound respect—and not only was he capable of basking but very much did bask and basked long and well. Eventually the four Z-Senshi came to, and it was infact Piccolo who first spoke up, gruff voice doing away with the silence the way a chunk of granite does away with the surface of a pond on a winter night. In fact the Namekian's voice was not terribly gruff by nature but attained a certain gruffness due to his temperament and due to the moment in which he chose to thrust forth his question.

"So… you're the God that Enma Daio told us about?"

North Kaio looked at Piccolo from behind small round glasses, glasses that might have even been regarded as fashionable back on Earth (though, truth be told, nothing else about Kaio really was). "Yes, and you must be Piccolo. Tell me…"

He left a distinct pause in his words, light from some intangible source shimmering off of the twin lenses of his sunglasses.

"Do you know what the lightbulb said to the psychologist?"

Piccolo was taken completely aback at the question. There was another pause, a long one, this one not so distinct, as the Z-Senshi stared at Kaio with completely blank looks upon their respective faces—Piccolo especially, who had no idea what a lightbulb or a psychologist was. He had never had any need of them and thus had never bothered to learn.

Kaio smiled widely. "Give up? He said," the God snorted, "Doc, I've got a _watt_ on my mind!"

Silence. Utter silence.

A few moments later, Kaio flew into a temper tantrum. "God _damn _it! You're all just like Goku! All muscles! No brains! No appreciation for fine humor! Well know what?! You can just _forget_ about being my pupils! That's right! Just go back the way you came down the road!" Kaio turned his back and folded his arms, assuming a rather childish gesture.

Piccolo scowled at the back of the short, fat little blue god, and made to turn away, before suddenly noticing that he felt as if he weighed a thousand pounds. "Grr! What the hell is going on? Is this some kind of joke?"

"Oh _now_ it's a joke huh?" Kaio had turned back around. "It isn't really funny, you know. It's gravity! What a downer, huh?!"

More silence. Kaio fumed and turned his broad back to them oncemore.

Piccolo did his best to whirl around, although the increased gravity of the little planet (an astronomical anamoly, really) made such a motion quite difficult. "Just what do you mean, the gravity?"

"OH A DOWNER I GET IT WHATAGREATJOKE!!!" Yamcha suddenly blurted out, drowning out Piccolo's completely sober inquiry as he, Tenshinhan and Chiaoutzu all burst into very raucous and very fake spurts of laughter, holding their abdomens and doubling over as if Kaio's joke was just… too much to stand up to. (cue rim shot)

Piccolo's face faded into a mask of silent rage, but before he had time to threaten anyone's life Kaio turned around again with a pleased smile on his keen little face. "Huh, I guess you're like a little slow, like Son Goku. Very well… I'll train you. I doubt you have the strength right now to make it back up to the Serpent Road anyway," the North Kaio snorted.

_Who does he think he is? _Piccolo growled in thought. _This whole thing's a joke. Son is going to be light-years ahead of me at this rate!_

"I'm going to have some lunch. When you're ready, come inside and I'll explain things a bit more."

Kaio went inside and began to eat while the others struggled to take the necessary few steps into his little house.

(About forty collective steps and forty minutes later)

Piccolo stood, or rather slumped beneath the low ceiling of Kaio's home, having exiled himself to the very edge of the room while the others sat gathered around a low and round wooden table, its overall appearance somewhat Occidental as opposed to the architecture of the rest of Kaio's little round home, which suggested a more exotic taste. But then, if the North Kaio was anything like Kami, he had not chosen this house but had merely inherited it from some predecessor. Or had the North Kaio always been around, and had he always exhibited such poor taste in humor?

Yamcha, Tenshinhan and Chiaoutzu hunkered around the table, all seven eyes on the North Kaio—they seemed to struggle to hide their exasperation with his eating regimen, whose lengthiness was rivaled only by its noisiness. It was, among other things, one of the prime reasons that Piccolo had chosen to stay as far away as possible while still being present. Truth be told the Namekian probably could have listened to every word from outside of the house, but he preferred not to be hassled by Kaio who surely was inferior both in understanding and in listening ability (which must have been why his voice erupted with such obnoxious loudness). Finally, after what seemed an eon of Gokuesque consumption, North Kaio leaned back in a rickety chair and patted his stomach, declaring, "Good eats! You guys aren't hungry? You must have worked up quite an appetite running all the way down that road!" Kaio snorted.

"Beg your pardon, sir," Tenshinhan began after a moment of awkward and unspoken refusal by the plurality of the room, "But my friends and I really did come a long way to get here, and we only have so much time until we'll be wished back to Earth… probably to face an even stronger pair of Saiyans, at this rate." Tenshinhan paused, flinching slightly beneath Kaio's stare, which was hidden behind dark glasses. "Are we… going to receive the same training as Son Goku?"

_At least someone's attempting to get to the point_, thought Piccolo.

Kaio smiled after a moment—a wide keen smile that seemed to suggest he had been waiting for such a question all along. "You know, I'm very glad you asked!" Without another word, Kaio stood up and walked to the back of the room, exiting into an even smaller room situated out of sight through a little door sitting unassumingly within the confines of the back wall. The four of them sat in some bewilderment, as they hadn't noticed Kaio's home being any more than this one room, from the outside…

Yamcha spoke up. "Whaddaya suppose he's up to?"

The three at the table were somewhat surprised when Piccolo spoke up, rather fiercely, "I think he's just playing games with us. This is somebody's idea of a joke… Kami, no doubt. Well, I'll not be made a fool of any longer!" Spitting out the last statement, the tall green warrior turned with a swish of white cape and ducked out of the house, disappearing through the doorway. Moments later the others felt his ki churning up from outside, the power brooding and unpredictable, a sign of the Namekian's anger.

"What's eating him?" Yamcha asked. "I mean, Piccolo's usually not the sunniest kid in school, but he seems—"

"Even more disturbed than usual," Chiaoutzu finished. The small telepath sat in a chair beside Tenshinhan, eyes fixated on a point ahead of himself that the others could not perceive. Tenshinhan found it unusual for Chiaoutzu to have spoken, as the small prince typically did not come out of his shell unless the two of them were training together in the wilderness. But Chiaoutzu went on, "I've sensed it ever since he arrived here shortly after we did. It's almost as if… he's fighting something, all the time."

The other two sat in silence, and Tenshinhan felt a small pang of pride at how perceptive Chiaoutzu seemed to be. The triclops knew, deep down, that his friend was not made for fighting, and he assumed that at same point not too far off, Chiaoutzu would retire himself as a warrior… but perhaps such empathetic abilities could still be of use to the Z-Senshi.

Suddenly, the most inappropriate thing happened. Out of the doorway, a small bouncy figure emerged, and just as Yamcha was about to greet Kaio upon his return, the three of them saw with some shock that they were being approached by a stocky little monkey with a round, amiable face, carrying a long thin roll of parchment in one hand. The monkey waltzed up to the table and sat down where Kaio had been, and for a moment the three warriors sat in complete awe, wondering if by some hellish magic Kaio had not transformed himself into a monkey.

"N… North Kaio?" Yamcha peered tentatively at the monkey, who peered back without seeming to recognize Yamcha at all.

Suddenly the creature let out a series of brash hoots, as if laughing at the three of them, hopping up and down vigorously on the chair. He spread the parchment wide onto the table, placing apples, oranges and bananas on its corners to hold it flat. Then the monkey hopped down from the chair and scampered out of the room to a chorus of low chattering sounds, disappearing through the small door at the back. A few minutes later, Kaio emerged again, walking up to the table and sitting down.

Yamcha, Tenshinhan and Chiaoutzu stared at Kaio's face in complete confusion, their respective mouths hanging open wide.

Kaio snorted. "Ahh, I see you're just as excited as I am! Every century they hold one of these, and every century I miss out on it for lack of students! I would have entered Son Goku, you see, but it was too early in the season! But the four of you will do nicely," Kaio smiled, his sunglasses flashing brilliantly.

For the first time, the three of them peered down at the large piece of parchment and attempted to read the bold headline scrawled over the top.

—**OTHERWORLD MARTIAL ARTS TOURNAMENT—**

**(Participants must be deceased)**

"You… you want us to enter a martial arts tournament… for dead people?"

"Precisely!" Kaio's blue face lit up with childlike joy. "And not just _any_ martial arts tournament! You'll be representing the whole Northern Galaxy! And most importantly of all, you'll be representing me, the North Kaio!" He practically showered the three of them with spit upon completion of the last exclamation.

Yamcha screwed up his face. "But… d'you think we're strong enough to compete against… a whole other galaxy?"

Kaio retorted, "Not just another galaxy—three others! And I don't think you're strong enough at all." Kaio smirked. "But, you _will_ be."

This instilled the Z-Senshi with much excitement, and, remembering that they were in fact a foursome, Tenshinhan called toward the outside of the house to their stingy green counterpart. "Hey, Piccolo! Did you hear that? He's going to be entering us into a galactic tournament!"

"Not interested," came a gruff voice from outside.

Somewhat crestfallen, the others were about to protest when Kaio quickly silenced them with a gesture of his hands and whispered, "Shhhh. Not a word. I'll talk to him."

Kaio turned and walked majestically outside, followed by hopeful stares. Closing the door to the house, Kaio turned to face Piccolo, who had been meditating fitfully nearby, his ki having long ago settled down, though his mind had not.

Kaio hesitated, and then spoke. He knew that the Namekian would be listening, even if his eyes were closed.

"Listen, Piccolo. I know this all must seem like some weird dream to you, but… for the time being, this is your life." Kaio paused, gauging the demon's reaction. "The truth is that you're the strongest one here, and I need you most of all. And besides… even you could improve."

Piccolo opened his eyes, glaring toward the North Kaio. "You know as well as I do that I'm not even meant to be here. This is all Kami's doing, and I don't want any part of it."

Kaio fended off disappointment, determined to convince Piccolo otherwise. "Kami? No way! Your place here has nothing to do with him—and everything to do with _you_! Your actions in life have determined your place in death. And trust me, you will appreciate this opportunity in the future."

The Namekian frowned, his stubborn anger becoming more pensive. "Just what do you mean by that? What do you know about the future… about my future?"

A sly smile crossed Kaio's dimpled face. Perhaps he was getting through to Piccolo after all. "Oh, about as much as a God ought to know," he snorted. "I know that a chance will arise for you to return to life sooner than you think… and that it will be an opportunity that could very well change your life, change who you are… down to the core."

For a moment, just a moment, Piccolo's expression was that of complete surprise. Then his rather apathetic mask returned, though a small smile quietly touched his face. "So you think you'll really need me, eh?"

"Absolutely!" Kaio piped. "Remember it was _you_ who sent Son Goku here in the first place," the God spoke, giving Piccolo a conspiratorial grin.

Both his pride, and, more importantly, his sense of destiny sated, Piccolo slowly stood and regarded the North Kaio for a long while before eventually nodding his head toward him in solemn assent. "Very well. But if anything gets dicey…"

"Right! Then it's settled!" Kaio shoved two fingers between his lips, producing a high-pitched whistle that very much pained Piccolo. He called to the others, "You guys get out here! There's no more time to waste! We need to start training right away!!"

A chorus of groans ensued as the other three Z-Senshi struggled to make it back out of the house and onto the low green grass of the tiny mystical planetoid. The first thing they would need to do would be to learn to move and execute basic martial arts maneuvers under the strain of the increased gravity. Once again the temporal motionlessness of death aided the warriors from Earth… they knew nothing of the passing of time, or of outside events; they could only focus on growing stronger, on the sensation of the life energy within them all, life energy that manifested itself even in death…

* * *

So the story has progressed into kind of a "what if" arc... but this very well could have happened during the time that Goku was recovering on Earth and traveling to Planet Namek. I am attempting to serve up both action that is true to the series and some character development that may not be. I hope everyone is enjoying thus far... chapter 4 will be up soon and will explore training as well as the interaction that it yields. Read/review please... and thanks to the kind folks who have bothered to review so far! Encouragement is greatly appreciated. 


	4. Training for the Tournament

He felt trapped within ominous understanding.

_Your life is over. Try as you might, you will never be able to resurrect what it was you once were. _

_What I once was? Or… what I remember being?_

_There is no use for rationalization here. You are a warrior: a creature of emotion, of strength, of destruction, and not of contemplation. That portion of your being has been left to your better half. And that part of you has succeeded in every respect—his first success being to exile you, a born failure._

_But… I succeeded… I realized my mission. _

_So why does the pain still live within you, within your flesh and blood?_

"North Kaio… why isn't Piccolo training with us?" Tenshinhan gazed toward the stocky little God, before gesturing lightly toward his green-skinned companion. The triclops and his two friends had been training hard for the tournament over the last few hours, and the entire time Piccolo had been meditating some distance away (though not too far away) beneath the shade of a tree. "He's just… sitting there."

"Yeah!" Yamcha found an opportunity to get it off of his chest. "We've been busting our asses this whole time and he's just taking it easy over there!"

Kaio spoke, somewhat reluctantly, "Perhaps it is just his way. And anyway, I can't force him to engage in physical training. I understand you have quite a score to settle with him though, Yamcha… that's quite a shiner!" Kaio snorted, and Yamcha's face reddened; the bandit rubbed absently at the large purple-black bruise around his right eye.

"That's right… I do! So it's TIME TO WAKE UP!" He directed the last four words toward Piccolo, who did not respond.

"Hey, forget about it, Yamcha," Tenshinhan said, positioning himself across from his friend and slowly assuming a steady fighting pose. "Besides, you've got me," the triclops smirked. "Let's see how you fight under this kind of gravity!"

A wolfish half-smile curled the other's lips. "Now that's more like it."

Wordlessly, Yamcha assumed a similar position, his legs widened about shoulder-width, arms raised defensively with fingers curled; the stance reflected Yamcha's unique blend of martial arts, which was something like a mixture of street fighting and the powerful techniques he had learned during his training with the great martial arts master, Roshi. Yamcha prided himself on ferocity and unpredictability, which would be an interesting counter to Tenshinhan's purist technical style—a style that had been honed unto deadliness.

Meanwhile, Chiaoutzu had just received a mouthful of grass and tangy dirt—the end result of another failed attempt at catching Kaio's wily monkey, Bubbles. He fumed to himself quietly, wishing that he could simply use his mental energies to hold the creature in place and then grab it. But the God under which he trained had strictly forbidden it, and so he was forced to play this difficult game of cat and mouse until he could manage the reflexes needed to outsmart the little devil. He had watched as Yamcha and Tenshinhan had quickly transcended the limitations of the gravity, and Piccolo had caught the monkey effortlessly on practically the first try. He sighed with some resignation, wishing he could possess such strength. Seeing Tenshinhan about ready to spar with Yamcha, however, Chiaoutzu forgot about his own quiet disappointment and got up, moving closer to watch the fight.

"Ready?"

"You bet."

In another instant, Tenshinhan was off of the ground and moving toward Yamcha, his ki energy surging tangibly around his body as a pale white flame. Yamcha stood ready as Tenshinhan rushed directly toward him; suddenly, however, the triclops faded from view, looking to pass right through Yamcha's body, before emerging above him and aiming a hard kick at his head. Yamcha ducked low, however, and sprung off of the ground in a backflip before landing in a low splits position, extending one hand and firing off a beam of raw ki toward Tenshinhan's chest; the latter promptly swatted it aside.

Yamcha smirked. "You've gotten stronger."

"You too."

Standing, Yamcha retook his stance; Tenshinhan landed and did the same. This time it was Yamcha who struck first, zooming toward Tenshinhan over the ground and attacking the former Crane disciple with a series of hard knee- and knuckle-shots, which Tenshinhan scrambled to block, arms blurring in order to intercept each coming strike. Yamcha persisted, however, and over the course of about a half a minute wore Tenshinhan's guard down, finally delivering a hard kneecap against the triclops' abdomen, crushing all of the air from his lungs. Tenshinhan stumbled back, sucking in air, but Yamcha persisted further—running toward Tenshinhan and leaping into the air, aiming a flying jump kick toward his head. Tenshinhan straightened at the last minute, however, and stepped to one side, hopping into the air to crash his elbow against Yamcha's backside as the bandit flew by him. Yamcha stumbled and fell, but caught himself on his hands and flipped forward to land on his feet, crouching a little, his hands cupped and somewhat hidden…

"Heh, you didn't really think you'd get away with that?" Tenshinhan smiled toward his sparring partner.

"Guess not…" Yamcha huffed. Suddenly a round blue-white orb of energy appeared within his cupped palms, Yamcha's ki flaring up distinctly. It grew twice its size in an instant, and before Tenshinhan could react, Yamcha turned and extended his hands toward him, crying out over the roar of the energy, "KamehameHAAAAA!!"

Tenshinhan gasped and prepared to block the attack, lowering his body; soon blue-white light blinded all three of his eyes as it closed in…

—(Time passed, and the Z-Senshi continued their training regimen… even Piccolo…)—

_Be honest with yourself… you knew you were going to die. That's why you took Son's whelp under your tutelage. You wanted to leave something of yourself behind…_

_How could I not know? Accursed Kami-sama… _

_This is going nowhere._

Piccolo's eyes snapped open, his four-hour meditation session coming quickly to an end. Almost immediately he took note of the location and status of the four now-familiar kis of Tenshinhan, Chiaoutzu, Yamcha, and the North Kaio: all four of them seemed to be inside the house again, leaving him somewhat alone. But his senses told him that there had been a battle here, albeit something of a scrimmage—the other three that he had come with were definitely stronger, however…

The Namekian slowly stood, his limbs feeling stiff and neglected from such a long period of time within the lotus sitting position. He stretched out slowly, feeling blood and life return to revitalize his arms and legs. On impulse he decided to escalate the intensity of his training. No more catching of stupid apes, or struggling to control his own self-destructive thoughts.

A moment later, Piccolo's body split into three identical versions of itself, the technique causing his ki to shoot up momentarily—enough to alert the Z-Senshi as well as the Lord of the Worlds inside of the little house.

When Kaio, Yamcha, Chiaoutzu, and Tenshinhan emerged from the house (alarmed that Piccolo's power seemed to have grown quite a bit in the last few "days" despite his only training having been mental meditation), roughly in that order, they found three identical Namekian warriors standing out on the grass a few feet in front of them, each one of them emitting a third of the Demon King's overall power.

"Who said it was break time?" The Namekian's voice emerged deep and incredulous over the quiet roar of the tangible ki energy around each of his bodies, and the four of them could not tell which one had spoken.

But Kaio started up, "Well, I d—"

"Shut up, Kaio. You think we're going to be ready for this tournament if you keep hindering our progress with this nonsense? The three of you _will_ fight the three of me… I only hope that you'll prove a challenge when I'm at a third of my original power."

"That's Kaio-_sama_!! You—" Kaio started to get angry, but when it became apparent that Piccolo wasn't listening, he quieted down. "He's right, though… they still need to train, and the tournament's only a month away."

Yamcha stepped forward, stancing. "We'll prove _more_ than a challenge! You should have stuck to one body!"

Tenshinhan and Chiaoutzu came up beside the bandit. "Yeah… and we still owe you for that stunt you pulled back on the Serpent Road," the triclops quipped.

"We'll see," said the central Piccolo. And with that, both sides rushed in…

In the meantime, however, Kaio-sama was receiving a telepathic message from the God of Earth.

**Lord of Worlds, can you hear me? It's Kami, my lord. I wish to tell you of what has transpired since the battle against the Saiyans.**

"Oh!" Kaio stood, somewhat tense, his arms folded behind his back as he attuned the fine antennae on his head to pick up on the message. "Go ahead, Kami."

**As you know, Piccolo and I were once one being. Because he has died, so have I, and the Dragon Balls of Earth have faded… they can no longer be used to bring the fallen warriors back to life.**

"I see," said Kaio. "So they're here permanently?"

**Perhaps not. Son Goku and Kuririn have recovered from the hospital and plans have been made to travel to the Planet Namek… the planet that was once home to the being that was Piccolo and I. It is hoped that they might make use of the Namekian Dragon Balls in order to revive their friends. **

"Well, that seems like a splendid idea," Kaio asserted.

**Perhaps not. I sense evil within Namek's immediate future… a terrible evil far greater than the Saiyan threat that destroyed your four warriors. I ask that you get them as strong as possible before they are revived, as they may play a part in deciding the fate of Earth, and ultimately, of the universe…**

"Hrm," Kaio frowned. "Don't worry about it, Kami. I've entered them into the Otherworld Martial Arts Tournament… they'll have their own incentive to train, as I would rather not tell them about this new danger until it becomes necessary."

**Alright. Best of luck to you. And, remember, Piccolo may already be sensing the same danger as I…**

The North Kaio nodded, silent, while the link between the two gods closed shut.

Meanwhile, the sparring matched raged intensely, the three human Z-Senshi struggling to fight back against the multiple forms of the Namekian Demon King. Just when Piccolo would seem to get the other hand, a clever tactic or desperate attack would turn things around, and so the match went for a long time at such a standstill. Kaio watched, thinking about what Kami had told him, hoping against hope that his warriors would give it their all for the tournament… as the real challenge lay silently and ominously beyond their comprehension, on a planet deep in space… a planet called Namek.

* * *

Alright. I apologize if this chapter was a little slow in coming; I've been ill with a sinus infection for quite some time and have only been able to work on it short bursts. The good news is that I recently purchased a lot of Dragon Ball and Dragon Ball Z manga that has been the catalyst for a lot of good ideas... I'll try to get the next chapter up more quickly, which will probably deal with the arrival of the tournament date. Reviews are always appreciated!


	5. To Remember, To Forget

"We have to… _ride_ that thing?"

Up above them, its motorized propeller beating a furious sound and disturbing the modest plant-life of Kaio's little planet, there came descending a massive flying machine that looked like a cross between a helicopter and a small battleship. It was oblong and somewhat boxed shape, looking well-used (and perhaps too often relied upon), painted in a drab deep yellow color. Here and there it was decorated with directions in a language that none of them could understand. And none could see who was piloting it.

"Well, yes, of course!" Kaio smiled wide toward Yamcha. "The location of the tournament is equidistant from all four of the major galaxies. That means it's _much_ too far for anyone to fly there! This fight is practically in another realm of existence!"

Tenshinhan and Chiaoutzu exchanged excited glances, but Yamcha still looked puzzled.

"What kind of mileage d'ya think that thing has, Lord? It must cost a fortune!"

"Do not question the magic of the afterlife! … And anyway, it's meant to carry over one hundred passengers, depending on how many are entered for the tournament that year!"

"One hundred?!" Chiaoutzu spoke up. "But there's only four of us! Are you saying you could have chosen a hundred people to fight, if you'd wished it?!"

"Yes," Kaio said. "But I'm betting on just the four of you. Now come on, enough with the questions. It's waiting for us."

And, indeed, above them, the whirlygig hovered with its great side-door swung open, revealing only a yawning darkness beyond the threshold. In silence, the four Z-Senshi as well as the Lord of Worlds flew upward toward the machine, its massive propeller blade beating restlessly against the golden, starless skies…

"How is it going to fly in space?"

"DO NOT QUESTION THE MAGIC!!"

—(Once aboard, none of them questioned the magic… though that is not to say that questions were not raised.)—

The interior was quite massive—larger on the inside than it was on the outside, much like Kaio's home. It was something like a flying room—a large flying room, modest but still sporting accommodations (which is more than most deceased people ask for). All along the floor there were small tables and chairs and benches for sitting, as well as mats for sleeping, as well as the occasional vending machine advertising some strange brand of cosmic cola. The pilots' chambers were located in some closed-off area, and there also seemed to be a large engine room beneath them; for all its girth the interior constantly trembled as the machine moved, and what would have been eerie silence was diluted somewhat by the constant whirring of mechanics around them. To elaborate on the size of the warriors' chamber, imagine this: if one were to stand at one end of the room one would have to shout quite loudly in order to communicate with a person on the other end of the room, and even then one would be banking on the echo. But, then, Kaio had not lied, and the room looked fit to house many warriors, or perhaps a few very large ones.

As one might expect at this point, Yamcha, Tenshinhan and Chiaoutzu were sitting around a table, playing a card game dominated heavily by excited and expectant conversation—while Piccolo was alone toward the other end of the room, his figure almost nondescript to the other Z-Senshi. The tall Namekian stood somewhat tense at the far wall, his arms folded over his chest, eyes fixated on an unseen point as he seemed to struggle to concentrate on something. After a few moments, however, Piccolo's gaze refocused and turned swiftly to Kaio's short figure, who had been standing some distance away, gazing toward him.

"… Kaio-sama."

"Yes?"

"Do you have any idea what sort of warriors we're going to be going up against in this tournament? Everyone trained hard, yes… but I have a bad feeling about all this, like we're not ready in the _least_. I like to know what I'm going up against." His tone was tight and concerned, the product of intelligent worry.

"It's really impossible to say, Piccolo. None of us Kaios knows anything about what sort of warriors the other three will enter. That wouldn't be fair!"

Piccolo frowned. "You said something to me earlier, when you were trying to talk me into helping you." The heavy-ridged eyes narrowed. "You said something was going to happen that might change my life. But… I've been thinking about it, and that's completely redundant!" Teeth bared. "My life can't change if I'm _dead_!"

"Oh come on, Piccolo. Your body has merely passed into a different realm. To the people of Earth, yes, you are dead, but you still _exist_, don't you? Haven't you gotten more powerful since you've been here?"

"You really think that? Have you felt _Son's_ power lately? It's skyrocketed!"

Kaio was quiet for a moment, stunned into silence. He hadn't counted on Piccolo being so aware of what had been happening on Earth, the way he and Kami were… but, in some respects, Piccolo _was_ Kami… a dark Kami, full of arrogance and rage, which were the very things that fueled his awesome strength.

"You shouldn't worry about Son Goku. You aren't rivals anymore!" Kaio felt a pang of regret as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Who are you to say so?" Piccolo's energy flared angrily, causing the other three to look up from their card game with concern. "There's still unfinished business between Son and I. Things have merely been postponed… or have you forgotten what I am?"

"Sometimes, Piccolo, it is better to forget."

The Demon King snorted, and the conversation was over.

—(Meanwhile… at the other end of the room…)—

"I'm gonna go grab a soda. Does anybody else want?" Yamcha stood up from the small wooden table (its based bolted to the floor) that he and the other human warriors had been sitting around. Tenshinhan shook his head and Chiaoutzu followed suit.

Once the bandit had drifted out of earshot, Chiaoutzu spoke.

"Tenshinhan?"

"Yes?"

"… I'm afraid."

"Of what? It's just a tournament. And besides, we're already dead!" Tenshinhan smiled, but Chiaoutzu went on, his big eyes full of sad introspection.

"I know… but these fighters will be from every corner of the universe! You and Yamcha and Piccolo might have a shot, but I don't think I'll be of any help at all…"

Tenshinhan frowned for a moment, before putting his hand on Chiaoutzu's shoulder. "Listen… all we can do is give it our best shot, just like we did against the Saiyans. They beat us, Chiaoutzu, but we sure gave 'em hell before we died, huh?" He grinned at his small companion. "No matter what happens, don't forget your training, or the honor that's been bestowed upon you… you're a hero, and that's why you're here."

Tenshinhan was smiling, and soon Chiaoutzu found himself smiling too.

"What's up guys?" Yamcha sat down with an orange can of soda in one hand, popping the tab happily. "Did I miss one of Kaio's hilarious jokes?"

Tenshinhan chuckled. "Nah, Yamcha. It's nothing, really… we were just talking about the tournament again."

"Right! I am _so_ pumped!" It was about the fifth time Yamcha had reiterated his excitement. "We're gonna show 'em what Earth is made of!"

"You said it!"

Suddenly, a strange deep voice came over an unseen loudspeaker:

"**Approaching the registration and arena area. Touchdown in approximately 45 seconds. Please gather your participants and all relevant materials and exit the craft in an orderly manner. Lost items due to negligence are not our responsibility. Good luck and thank you for flying the Otherworld Express-o-Copter.**"

Just then, a huge hole opened in the floor of the main chamber, as a gigantic ramp dropped with a thud onto solid ground below. Warm light flooded the room, and after a moment of brief excited confusion the four Z-Senshi and their otherworldly master headed toward the ramp.

The martial artists descended the ramp, which was complete with a set of small steps, onto a wide road that seemed to have been paved in white stone—reflecting bright, almost brilliant light from a sun that none of them could yet see. As they stepped away from the Otherworld Express-o-Copter, the ramp slowly folded back into the belly of the mechanic beast, and soon the clunky contraption started up again and rose swiftly into the air, moving away across the sky, leaving them with only a rather breathtaking sight.

Risen up before them was a huge courtyard created entirely from natural beauty and white stone. Where there was not marble there was lush green grass, and, in the distance, on either side, a long series of flowing blue-green waterfalls, their lustrous and nomadic faces marred only by the occasional jutting of a small black rock or two. Indeed they stood upon an island penned in by waterfalls that flowed downward to nowhere, where a wide white road led through stone gates into a sizeable courtyard, which was, although they did not know it yet, to be the registration area. Above it all was a serene pink-red sky dotted with wisps of white cloud and the occasional burst of golden sunlight which perfected the eternal beauty of the place with its kiss. The Z-Senshi breathed in the sight, and even Piccolo was taken aback by the utter harmoniousness of it all.

"Is this place… really real?" Piccolo weakly comprehended the sound of his own voice.

It was just then that Yamcha noticed Kaio's absence.

"Yo, guys! Where's Kaio-sama?"

"He must have gone ahead," Tenshinhan said, trying to take control of the situation before anyone became overwhelmed. Of course, he had been thinking of Chiaoutzu. "Let's go into that courtyard. I can sense other people inside."

"You're right! There's definitely a lot of people in there…" Yamcha began to take off.

"Wait," Piccolo spoke curtly.

The others turned toward him with questioning glances.

"Suppress your ki as much as you can. The less the others know about your abilities, the better off you are. I've been doing it since we got on that silly-looking aircraft."

"Right," Tenshinhan smirked. _Piccolo sure is clever_, he thought.

—(I've come all this way, and what do I find?)—

The Z-Senshi stood in the middle of the courtyard, puzzled. All around them there was a vast grassy expanse dotted with odd, stout little trees—a perfect place for a gathering of people—and yet, there were no people. The far wall was precisely that, simply about fifty feet of compact white stone. On occasion, they could hear distant roars of approval, as if, somewhere on the island, the fighting was already taking place…

"I don't understand," Tenshinhan said abruptly. "I was sure I could sense people in this area. In fact… I _still_ sense them… but there's nobody here!"

"Maybe this is some kind of test," Yamcha said, glancing around.

"Or maybe… what's that?" Chiaoutzu pointed toward the center of the courtyard, where there was a small, almost unnoticeable square opening in the stone. A small sign was propped up beside it.

The Z-Senshi promptly moved to the opening.

The sign was not in any human language. The lettering was oddly curved and ornamented, offering only a few strange-looking symbols to the quartet of martial artists.

But Piccolo felt something deep—something ancient—stir within him when his eyes poured over the symbols.

"Chiaoutzu, can you read it?" Tenshinhan looked downward toward the small mentalist.

"No… I've never seen anything like it!" Chiaoutzu screwed up his face, peering close to the sign. "It isn't a human language."

"It says, 'Registration Tunnel'," Piccolo said, already halfway down the stairs.

"Huh?" Yamcha stared at the retreating cape. "How do you know?"

"It's in Namekian."

At the bottom of the stairs, the four indeed found themselves within a low, dimly lit tunnel, its walls made out of the same white stone that had adorned the courtyard. It stretched forward for quite a ways, sometimes breaking off into smaller hallways; but directly ahead, at the end of the tunnel, was a bright opening through which they could hear many voices and dialects—the sounds of a room filled with combatants from all over the universe.

So it made sense that nobody really noticed the Z-Senshi when they entered the room—and with their ki levels suppressed, they must have been mistaken for registration attendants, albeit funny-looking ones. All around the room, warriors of all shapes and sizes were gathered; some of them stood and talked, others sulked alone, while others still excercised and flexed, and some filled out paperwork at one of four small registration tables placed in symmetric sequence about the room. Some were dwarven, only a few feet high, while others towered to the ceiling, ten times larger than a human being—some of them were made of unrecognizable stuff, while others appeared almost humanoid. But one thing they all had in common, the Z-Senshi noted, was that they were all incredibly strong fighters—and that was taking ki suppression into account.

It was then that Piccolo noticed something very strange. Of all the feelings he got from the warriors in the room, one of them jumped out at him harder than any others, lumping itself into his chest against his will. It shook him.

The power came from a tall figure in a silver cloak who was facing away from them. The cloaked figure looked humanoid, although its body was completely covered and its face obscured. All Piccolo had to go by was the immense ki coming from the warrior, an energy signal that not only surpassed almost any that he had ever felt but that felt familiar in a way that only one other person's ever had—Kami's. And there was a reason for that.

_Who… who is that?_ Piccolo glanced toward the other three Z-Senshi, who were gathering around the registration table marked "Northern Galactic Participants".

_It's like they don't even notice… !_

He looked again, but the cloaked figure was gone. Piccolo cleared his senses, trying to seek out where the mysterious figure had gone. The sensation of power remained in him, buzzing in his head like a quiet madness, but when he tried to dig deeper, he found himself coming up against a wall of vague uncertainty.

_I can't believe he's suppressing his power… he's already as strong as the Saiyan who killed me on Earth. He's probably stronger than Vegeta…_ _is this what's been disturbing my meditations lately?_

"Hey, Piccolo, we're signed up." Tenshinhan's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I've got a map of the whole area. We should be able to find our quarters if we follow it." The triclops walked over toward the Namekian, flanked by Yamcha and Chiaoutzu.

"Are you alright, Piccolo? You look as if you've seen a ghost…"

"I'm fine," Piccolo answered quickly. "Just… sick from the flight. We should look for our rooms. Kaio-sama is probably waiting."

The Z-Senshi left the registration room as quietly as they had entered, Yamcha holding the map spread out in front of himself. They began to navigate the series of underground hallways in a somewhat tight procession, only getting lost a couple of times before finding a set of large double doors and a floor-mat sporting the letter **N**. The doors were cracked partway open, already, and they could hear bizarre crashing noises coming from the other side…

* * *

Alrighty. So far this is the longest chapter I've written, and in my estimation I think it's also the best. The new college semester has delayed my writing a little, but I will try to get the next installment up in a timely fashion. Hopefully I've intrigued the readers a little with some of the dialogue and events in this chapter--needless to say, I've been getting a lot of really cool ideas about where this story might go. All I know right now is how it's going to end. Of course, please read/review! Look alive for Chapter 6!


	6. What Is And What Isn't

The foursome paused before the door. One could perceive from the other side of it the sounds of what was obviously some sort of struggle: the haphazard thuds and thumps of toppled and tossed furniture permeated by the occasional pained or frustrated shouting noise. The most peculiar thing, however, was that while two energy beacons were present, only one was of any significance—and it was the stronger of the two that was emitting the most distress.

"Guys, that feels like Kaio-sama," Tenshinhan said.

"He needs our help!" Without hesitation, Yamcha burst forward through the large double doors, with the rest of them following him almost headlong into the spacious but dimly-lit room.

"But what could possibly be—?"

Yamcha came skidding to a stop, mouth falling ajar; the other three, almost running into the bandit, duplicated his general expression.

Before them, the Lord of Worlds ducked near the floor, covering his head in fear as an enraged monkey scampered around the room, overturning end tables adorned with baskets of fruit and hurling small objects hurriedly into the once-tranquil atmosphere.

"Guys! Help! Bubbles has gone CRAZY!" Kaio-sama yelped, and roll/fell out of the way of an oncoming vase, which smashed against the wall into a plethora of dainty little fragments, some of them larger than others.

After a moment or so of humored shock, Yamcha and Ten lept swiftly to retain Bubbles, grabbing the ape by the arms and legs and actually struggling quite a bit to hold him still.

Eventually, Bubbles calmed, and everyone went to the tedious business of cleaning up the room—except for Piccolo, who stood watching, and scowling.

—(We're warriors, not maids!)—

"So, let me get this straight," Tenshinhan looked toward Kaio. "You say that Bubbles tore up the room… because you forgot to bring his snacks?"

Kaio nodded solemnly, to the sound of four loud crashes.

"Ya know," Yamcha said, smirking a little, "I think up until now we were all pretty convinced that you and that monkey were the same person… like a were-monkey… or maybe a were-God?"

Kaio fumed. "I am _not_ a monkey!! Anyway, now that that's all settled, you four have better things to worry about than what physical form I take. The preliminaries start tomorrow, and only 8 warriors will be moving on to the finals."

"Only 8? … Out of how many?" Briefly, Yamcha remembered his times fighting in the Tenka'ichi Budokai tournaments back on Earth. He had always made it to the finals there, even if the number of contestants had been in the hundreds…

"Roughly one thousand," Kaio smiled.

"What?! One thousand?! That's insane!"

"Actually, it's pretty low compared to the last tournament. After all, these are fighters from all over the universe, not just from Earth. When you think of it like that, 1000 is really already a fairly elite number…"

Tenshinhan cut in. "Lord, is there anyone with whom we should be concerned?"

The North Kaio smiled at Tenshinhan, an enigmatic smile, the contour of his eyes hidden behind dark glasses that reflected the soft half-light of the room.

"There is always someone stronger…"

Piccolo began to listen.

"And if they are not stronger, they will have some other advantage. But Earth's warriors are known for their resilience, are they not? You may not all make it through this… but at least you won't get killed!" Kaio snorted to another four-thump chorus.

"But in all seriousness… now is not the time to worry about what we can't change. Go and enjoy the rest of the day here, which is actually a few hours longer than Earth's day, and don't think about fighting until it's time to fight."

After a few moments, Yamcha, Ten, and Chiaoutzu bowed and quietly left the room, leaving Piccolo alone with Kaio-sama and with Bubbles, who had gotten sleepy and dozed off on one of the king-sized beds.

"Did you have more questions, Piccolo?"

"I was wondering… if you had felt anything out of place from any of the warriors inside the registration room today. I know you weren't there, but still, you are a God."

"But if a God knows something… you ought to know it too."

"I was afraid you would say that. Goodbye, Kaio." Without another word, the tall Namekian turned and stepped to the door, exiting the room. Kaio watched him go.

—(Time winds down, even when you're dead…)—

Piccolo found himself floating lazily through a cloudless pink-red sky, high above the little pseudo-island upon which the tournament would be held. He could see now that beyond the courtyard where they had entered was an impressive-looking arena similar in concept to the one used at the Tenka'ichi Budokai (the one he had destroyed), although it was quite a bit larger and sported posts in each corner adorned with symbols representing the four principal galaxies. Everything seemed fairly quiet. The others had gone somewhere without him, and he was grateful to have this time to himself. Instinctively, Piccolo began to head in the direction of the large waterfall that formed a near-complete circle around the island; and out beyond that there was nothing but sea, as if the island itself had risen up out of some great hole left in the planet long before.

He touched down silently a few moments later, standing on a pretty large rock that jutted out from beneath the fast-moving water. He was only a few feet away from the edge of the falls, where the water tumbled into a yawning bottomless abyss. He felt comforted around water, though he was not sure why. He often meditated at the falls near Son Goku's home back on Earth—which gave him the added benefit of being able to keep tabs on Son's power as it grew. He wondered briefly what the waterfall looked like now, without him there, and whether or not anyone ever went looking for him only to remember that he had died.

Suddenly the presence of a powerful and briefly familiar chi caused Piccolo to whirl around. On the rock before him stood the warrior in the silver cloak.

_How did I not sense him approaching? _It was the first time he had been so close to the mysterious figure. Piccolo found that he was only a little taller than the cloaked warrior, with a similar build. Again he felt that the man's power was being suppressed, and that bothered him.

"Room for one more up here?" A somewhat deep, quiet voice emerged from the darkness of the hood. It stirred something within Piccolo.

"… What do you want?" Piccolo's voice was harsh in comparison, filled with a lifetime's worth of mistrust.

"The same as you, I imagine. I enjoy the water. It reminds me of home."

Piccolo frowned. "How long have you been here?"

"Longer than you have."

There was a pause between them, during which Piccolo felt at a loss for what to say. It would have been habitual for him to dismiss the other with a grunt or a sneer, and coast away to someplace more private, but again this man's power compelled him to stand at a loss for action or words. But, in any case, it was the cloaked warrior who spoke first.

"Don't see very many Namekians at these things. Most of them are peaceful farmers, or at the very least practice mild sorcery…"

Piccolo frowned. "I wouldn't know. I didn't even know that I _was_ a Namekian until recently. So it doesn't matter to me."

"What doesn't? Being a Namekian… or being an unusual Namekian?"

"I think that's enough questions. Or do you always approach strangers with such a lack of respect?"

"I suppose I was just trying to be pleasant. I came here to warn you of an immediate threat toward you and your friends from Earth…"

—(And what about the other three?)—

Yamcha smiled widely, rubbing an enlarged belly while strolling down the hall ahead of Tenshinhan and Chiaoutzu.

"You know, for it being totally free, the food here is great!"

"Well, we _are_ dead," Chiaoutzu said quietly.

"I just hope eating all that food doesn't affect your performance in the tournament tomorrow. I expect to fight you in the finals, Yamcha," Ten smiled.

As the four of them approached their rather lavish quarters, they once again heard frustrated whooping noises and the sounds of things crashing against walls and floors and ceilings beyond the heavy double-doors.

Yamcha gripped the door's handle. "You'd think the Lord of Worlds would be able to keep a monkey under control, huh? Maybe this is part of his goofy training regimen…"

Tenshinhan and Chiaoutzu's eyes widened as the presence of an enormously dark chi crawled over their nerves. But before they could speak, the doors of their room exploded, and they were blinded by a white explosion that sent them backward through the corridor, away from the sensation of life forces both rising up and fading away…

—(Revelations can never come too soon.)—

"What?! _He's _here?! I thought he was sealed away forever!"

Piccolo's mind raced. He was beginning to feel more and more of the ominous premonitions that had been plaguing him back on Kaio's planet. What made it worse was that his fears were being confirmed by a stranger whom he did not know but who, nevertheless, seemed to know him.

"No. Not forever. Not even close to that. But he does want revenge on the one who stole his chance at power, who stole his pride and legacy. It doesn't matter that we are all dead. He is going to wreak havoc here, and I am afraid that the cosmos themselves may be torn asunder. Things would not be this way if you had not come."

Piccolo sneered. "How do you know all this? … Who are you?!"

The cloaked warrior went on, chuckling softly to himself. "How ironic that it was your destiny to end up in Hell, and our destiny to see a relatively peaceful gathering of combatants here. A destiny changed by the innocence of a child… that's something you never had, isn't it, Piccolo?"

Piccolo's expression faded somewhat, and for a moment he stood speechless. Then his resolve returned, but a sly smile touched his lips. "I finally understand. I know who you are now, and why you deign to speak to me about my own destiny. I only wish you had had the courage to reveal yourself right away… I've suffered much anxiety about you… though still I do not know how you became so strong. Show yourself… Kami!"

But the other laughed again. "I am not he. But you're getting warmer, I suppose."

Piccolo growled quietly and was about to speak again when a telepathic message from Kaio cut his thoughts short.

**Piccolo! Things are getting bad here! Some strange warriors have attacked your friends! Please come quickly!**

The cloaked warrior read the sudden change of expression on the Namekian's face. "Go."

—(More than anyone bargained for?)—

When Yamcha awoke, the hallway was silent. Looking up past his prone body toward the double-doors of the room where the participants from the North Galaxy were meant to stay, he could see that the doors were slightly ajar, the room empty and still, and that the explosion which had knocked him back this far had faded—and even the smoke was gone. How long had he been out?

A moment later, the bandit stepped into the room, finding it empty. It looked almost untouched, though a strong and acrid smell of burnt flesh and cloth filled his nostrils. He realized he was smelling his own body, charred from the blast that had knocked him out.

Strangely, the whole room was lit up, as if someone had switched on a bright overhead lamp. Yamcha started as he looked up at the full moon, staring into the room through a large hole that had been blown in the ceiling.

"No wonder it's so bright… did they go through there?" Levitating quietly through the hole, he found himself in the middle of the courtyard that they had been in when they had first come to the island. Landing gently on the white marble in front of the gaping hole, the bandit looked around for some sign of his friends, but the whole courtyard was empty and quiet. Overhead the sky was dark and filled with a plethora of bright white points.

"What's going on?"

Just then the dark sky lit up with a light even more brilliant than the moon, casting a heated yellow glow over the entire area, and over Yamcha's surprised expression. The bandit heard a familiar voice.

"KI-KO-HO!"

Yamcha felt Tenshinhan's chi flare up and then drop. He growled and rushed into the air, moving as fast as he could in the direction of the blast. He sprung over the high ornate wall that separated the courtyard from the tournament area, just in time to grab Ten's wrist as the triclops began to fall toward the arena, exhausted.

"Tenshinhan! What's going on?!" Yamcha held onto Tenshinhan and dropped quietly to the arena, only a few feet away from the large square depression created by the awesome force of the kikoho attack.

"He can't hear you, you know." A malicious snake-like voice crawled out of the shadows around the arena, and Yamcha was suddenly aware of four or five more dark chis around himself. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The voice went on.

"He used up the last of his energy on the blast. Unfortunately, it missed." The voice laughed. "But even if it hadn't, it would have done him no good. What a waste. And to think he was a participant in this prestigious tournament… whatever is the world of martial arts coming to these days?" A chorus of chuckles succeeded the flippant remark.

Yamcha, never one to lie down and take a remark like that, immediately turned toward the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing. "I don't like your tone, buddy. In fact, it's really starting to piss me off!" He laid Tenshinhan down against the floor of the arena and stood to his full height, facing the ominous figures who stood in the shadows outside of the ring. "Why don't you tell me who you are and why you're causing trouble, before I beat it outta ya!"

**Yamcha! They're too powerful and there are too many of them! Tenshinhan distracted them while Chiaoutzu and I got away… just try to get his body and get out of there! Please, or you'll both be killed!**

"Kaio! But… where's Piccolo?"

**I don't know, we'll worry about that later! Just do as I say!**

Yamcha frowned. "Alright." His eyes turned toward the group of nameless thugs, watching them closely.

The snake-like voice emerged again. "Who are you talking to?"

"Hey! I've got a question for you! How many psychologists does it take to change a lightbulb?!"

There was silence.

"Give up?! I don't know either, but catch!" The last word came out as a yell, and Yamcha extended his hands, firing a large energy wave toward the group of them. Not waiting for the explosion to clear and for the retribution that would surely follow, he scooped up Tenshinhan's body and sprung away, leaping the wall and dashing as fast as he could across the courtyard.

"Kaio-sama! Where are you?"

**The room is no longer safe! Chiaoutzu and I are staying at the temple for the monks who maintain the tournament grounds.**

"Great! How do I get there?"

**Follow the north star, straight on 'til morning…**

"Er… what? Really?"

**No, I just always wanted to say that. Get off of the island and I'll send Chiaoutzu to meet you!**

"Gotcha."

Tenshinhan moaned, "Yamcha…"

Yamcha stopped, looking over his shoulder at his friend, whom he had been carrying on his back across the courtyard. "Tenshinhan! You're alive!"

"The lightbulb has to _want_ to change…"

—(Not what one might expect.)—

"So what you're telling us is that Garlic Junior is back _again_?!"

"No, no," Kaio said, pacing back and forth between two rather nondescript stone statues. "This is Garlic _senior_, his father! The one that the God of Earth sealed up in darkness for trying to take over the world so long ago!"

"But, I still don't get it," said Chiaoutzu. "Shouldn't he have perished inside the Dead Zone? Only Garlic Junior was immortal!"

"Exactly," Tenshinhan cut in, laying across a stone bench. His body was covered here and there with various bandages that the temple monks had been kind enough to apply to him. "He _did _perish. He's dead. That's why he's able to be here now!"

"Wait," Yamcha said. "But how did he get here? I thought we were the only people from the North Galaxy to enter."

"I cannot say for sure," Kaio said, eyebrows furrowed with worry. "I don't even know how he escaped from the Dead Zone. But apparently he wants revenge."

"Against us?"

"Well, no, he would want to destroy Kami…"

"But Kami's back on Earth," Yamcha responded.

"Yes, but… Piccolo isn't."

There was a moment of silence between the four of them, permeating the large temple interior.

"But that's pointless," Tenshinhan said, destroying the silence with his authoritative baritone. "Piccolo and Kami are both already dead!"

"There are dangers worse than death," came a soft voice into the temple. The four of them looked, finding a tall hooded figure in a silver cloak standing within the temple threshold. "Garlic can make it so that neither Kami nor Piccolo may ever return to life, trapped inside some alternate dimension, forced to wander forever just like those destroyed by demons. It's actually something like poetic justice."

The three Earthlings fell silent, and only Kaio spoke.

"So it is a serious danger. I only wish we knew where Piccolo was." He looked toward the figure in the silver cloak. "How do you know him again?"

Slowly, the cloaked warrior brought his hands up to his head, pulling back the hood which obscured his face. The four of them, even Kaio, were taken aback by what they saw: a weathered but proud Namekian face, flanked by two antennae, that stared back at them with eyes that were both intense and quietly sad.

"I am Kattatsu. I suppose you could say I was once the father of the Namekian who became Kami and Piccolo. I should not be here either… but I came to protect the fate of my offspring."

Another long silence.

Once again, it was Kaio who spoke. "I must confess I feel embarrassed that I did not detect any of this was going to happen… now I know why Piccolo was asking so many questions. He must have known something was going to happen. Funny, I told him his life was going to change, but I was talking about something _completely_ different… well, maybe not completely different."

Yamcha, forward-thinking, looked at Kaio. "So is there still going to be a tournament tomorrow?"

"Yes, there's still going to be a tournament tomorrow."

"What about all the other participants? Where are they?"

"Asleep in their beds, I'd say."

"But… why do they get to sleep and we're up all night running from some crazy seasoning?!"

"That's just the way things are!"

"But it's not fair! What about the arena? How are they going to fix it?"

"WHAT HAVE I SAID ABOUT NOT QUESTIONING THE MAGIC?!"

Kattatsu coughed, looking slightly embarrassed. "Erm… if you'll excuse me. I had better not be seen here. You would all do well to get some sleep before the tournament begins. I won't go easy on any of you just because this happened." With that, the Namekian gave them a sly smile and pulled his hood up again, disappearing through the temple door.

Shortly after, everyone went to sleep, though Kaio laid awake for some time thinking and wondering where Piccolo could have been during all this. That he had been unable to foresee any of these events disturbed him… but perhaps everything was tied up with destiny after all, just as the Namekian had said.

* * *

Alright, sorry about the wait on this one! I've definitely heard all the requests for this chapter so I made it extra long to maybe make up for the delay. What I've done now is basically set everything in motion, and the next chapter will feature the beginning of the tournament as well as the first sustained battles, so I'll be able to try my hand at writing in such a way as to depict the action. I hope everybody hasn't forgotten about my fanfic! Please r/r! 


	7. The Preliminaries! Part I

Chiaoutzu's doll-like eyes fluttered; there was some disturbance in the night, he could feel it. The sun would be up soon, filling the quiet temple with its masterful light, and he could see through the large open doorway that the night sky was beginning to etch itself with a telltale hue of blue and violet; day was indeed coming. But, glancing around, the little emperor noticed his friends still sleeping, and even Kaio looked to be in a sort of deep meditative state something like sleeping. So why had he awoken?

He rolled off of the stone bench that had been his bed, feeling his joints smart from the unyielding stone against which he had been pressed for a handful of slow hours. In silence Chiaoutzu moved toward the yawning doorway, gazing out at the vista of blackened mountains slowly rising to a very deep green under a brightening cosmos. Something was amiss…

"You… Chiaoutzu…!"

Chiaoutzu started at the sound of the voice. He knew it. Piccolo!

"Chiaoutzu… please help me… or I am going to die."

Looking to his right, he started further, seeing a dark heap at the edge of the temple, halfway against the stone walkway that ran around it; the other part was straggled off against the grass, as if it had just barely made it to the building with the rest of its strength.

Completely unsure of what to do, Chiaoutzu ran over to where Piccolo was lying, the Namekian's body covered in grievous wounds. The grasses and stones were darkened with purple ichor. It looked bad, as if Piccolo had ran into the Saiyans again.

"But… but how can you die?! How can you bleed?!"

"Be_cause_, Chiaoutzu," Piccolo sneered with impatience, "We were granted our bodies as a special favor in order to train with Kaio-sama. But if our bodies are destroyed, what will happen to us? We are outside of the limits of Otherworld… where souls are tethered. If our bodies are destroyed here…" The Namekian gasped for air.

"Okay! I understand, enough!" Chiaoutzu placed his hand over Piccolo's mouth, a move he never would have tried had the green-skinned warrior not been hardly able to move from pain and fatigue. "Let me get you inside!"

—(Inside the temple…)—

Piccolo was now laid out across the bench the injured Tenshinhan had once occupied, whereas Tenshinhan was now standing and looking out of the wide threshold through which Piccolo had been hefted into the temple; a series of bandages had been wrapped about his torso, but otherwise he looked to be recovering quickly. After all, it took a lot to put Tenshinhan down, and even more to keep him there.

Kaio stood beside the faded Namekian, studying him with worried eyes shaded by small dark glasses.

"So you found him this morning, like this?" The Lord of Worlds addressed Chiaoutzu solemnly, and his voice sounded miles away from the chortling snorting laughter of a would-be comedian delivering his best line.

"Yes… I woke up because I sensed something was wrong, and I went outside, and he was barely awake and he called to me to help him. I tried to sense what might have happened to him," the mentalist sighed, "But it was all too clouded with something evil."

"It must be Garlic!" Yamcha's face darkened with distress. "He must have attacked Piccolo when nobody else was around, and ambushed him!"

Suddenly the Namekian produced a wry, half-scoffing chuckle. "You got that right… only I didn't see Garlic… just his ugly cronies. They attacked me on the outskirts of the island, all four of them… and I still took one down."

They reacted in amazement as his speech. "You really got one?!" Yamcha clapped his hands together, smiling. "That oughta teach 'em a thing or two!"

However, Kaio was worried about other things. They had taken Piccolo in and stopped his wounds up, and he was healing; but the worst was far from over.

"I don't think it will," Kaio said after a moment. He was frowning with far-off concern—one of his most typical expressions aside from the big, dumb smile he wore after cracking a particularly bad joke. Finally, he spoke again. "The four of you just rest up tonight. The tournament begins tomorrow and I think for now we should proceed as if nothing out of the ordinary has transpired."

Tenshinhan stared at Kaio for a time, trying to wrap his mind around the god's wisdom. "Normally I would agree with you, lord, except that Piccolo is mightily injured, and I am only just recovering… how are we going to be able to fight tomorrow at our full potential?"

Dark sunglasses watched Tenshinhan. "Well, you probably won't be able to fight at _full_ tomorrow, but that doesn't mean you can't still fight. You will have to deal with your limitations as they arise—but that would be true anyhow! Think of it like giving the other participants a handicap!" Kaio smiled for the first time since Piccolo had been brought in. Then he strolled toward the entrance to the temple. "Just all of you get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow for the tournament."

The room became peacefully quiet after Kaio-sama departed. Tenshinhan and Chiaoutzu returned to their bed-mats on the floor, and Piccolo remained stretched across one of the benches, almost completely still and breathing slowly, his body beginning a staggered recovery. Only Yamcha seemed restless, sitting cross-legged with his shoulders propped against a stone wall. Although he was reluctant to disturb the rest of the other three, two of which he knew were still recovering from the attacks, Yamcha still had burning questions that had gone unanswered. What did this new threat mean? If they died fighting in the tournament, would they simply vanish… forever?

He gulped, and turned his eyes to each of them in succession, still figures forming gently silhouettes in the dark. "Goodnight, you guys, and good luck tomorrow" he whispered, before closing his eyes, slipping into a drowsy decline that would ultimately bring him to sleep.

—(No more worries—it's time to fight!)—

The air was supercharged with the electric buzz of a universal (no pun intended) excitement; over 1000 warriors were gathered in the courtyard on the dream-like island, and the preliminaries were about to begin! Overnight, small circular fighting rings had magically been constructed; of a size so that the largest among all the participants (who happened to be a massive turtle-like creature called Fuya) would, standing up, take up about half of the ring. Here, over the course of the next few hours, the intergalactic cast of competitors would face off against one another until only 16 remained to go on to the semifinals; and from there 8; and from there 4; down to the very last match between the two strongest of them all. There were exactly 1024 people registered to fight, and the progression of elimination rounds would move as such during the preliminaries:

[ 1024 512 256 128 64 32 **16 **

This meant that losing even once forced a competitor out of the running for good.

At the center of a courtyard, the four Kaios (from each of the cardinal galaxies) stood together on a large wooden tower along with the official tournament announcer, who looked to be one of the monks from the temple that had offered refuge to the warriors from Earth the night before. Flanked by the gods of the four respective galaxies, he stepped up to the front of the tower holding a large megaphone. The crowd below quieted down as the megaphone turned on, emitting a loud screech.

"Um… excuse me, yes… HELLO, HELLO, IS THIS ON?!" The megaphone screeched again and even the Kaios winced. The old monk didn't seem to notice anything.

"Yes, well, ahm, WELCOME TO THE OTHERWORLD MARTIAL ARTS TOURNAMENNNNNT!!!" Screeeeech. "The Gods and I are most pleased to see what a terrific turnout there's been this time! A lot of fresh new faces, and of course some returning champions!" Screech. "The preliminaries will begin shortly. We have created exactly 50 small rings in which to hold the preliminaries, so that the first heat must have about 20 matches, the next 10, and so on, because there are so very many of you. Therefore in the interest of time—and yes, I realize you're all dead—we shall limit each round to no more than FIVE MINUTES!" Screeeeeech. "Behind me on the northern wall is the Official Preliminary Matching Chart—or, ahm, the chart that says who you'll be fighting and in which ring and in which order. We'll know who wins and who loses, so no funny business! Shortly I'll turn it over to the referees, also monks of my order," he was proud of this, "But first, a word from our sponsors! The Four Kaios!" Screeech.

There was a chorus of raucous applause for the Kaios, mostly from the monks (known officially as the Order of the Floating Dream), as well as some mixed unfriendly remarks from the warriors. Somewhere in the crowd the four sole Northern Galaxy participants stood huddled among strange shapes and faces, and they talked among themselves as the Kaios blathered about something or other.

"Piccolo… how are you feeling?" Tenshinhan faced the Namekian with certain concern.

"I'll be fine. Let's just all focus on getting through these preliminaries. I've been checking out the crowd here—most of them shouldn't be a problem."

"Au das vah joo dink!!" A towering, lumbering lion-like creature beside them bellowed, guffawing rather stupidly. "Easturn Gahaxy vanna vill vin!!!"

"Apparently the Eastern Galaxy vanna not talk right either," Yamcha smirked.

"VAT JOO SAY?!"

"Enough, enough," Tenshinhan said to Yamcha. "Let's keep our head in the game here."

"Well, c'mon man, listen to this guy…"

Within a few moments (after the Kaios had sung their own praises for organizing "yet another splendid gathering of the universe's finest") the preliminaries were underway. The first fifty matches began, and Yamcha found himself entering the ring straight away, pitted against a bulky muscular fellow in a white dogi. Piccolo, Chiaoutzu, and Tenshinhan watched from a short distance. The "ring" was really little more than a circular mat resting on the ground of the courtyard.

A monk stepped ringside to oversee the fight as the two contestants bowed to one another, probably not as low as they ought to have.

"Alright… Tobler from the Western Galaxy… and Yamcha from the Northern Galaxy. You may begin when ready. Remember, no killing, no eating, keep the name-calling to a minimum, and there's a five-minute time limit."

Yamcha nodded across to his opponent. "Ready?"

Tobler grinned, brushing heavy blond locks back over his shoulders. "You don't need to ask!" He suddenly charged Yamcha, lifting a hefty elbow to swing lightning-fast at the Earthling's chin. The bandit leaned his body backward just in time, feeling the rush of air as Tobler's elbow narrowly missed his face. Crouching his lithe body close to the mat of the ring, Yamcha kicked hard at Tobler's closest heel; the large man lost his balance and stumbled for only a moment—but Yamcha took the opening, springing to his feet and attacking Tobler with a series of lightning punches and kicks. The blond warrior was tenaciously defensive, however, batting away Yamcha's limbs like so many paper cranes, before staggering him with a heavy knee to his stomach, robbing him of wind. Yamcha staggered backward, gasping for breath.

"I'll end this right now!" Tobler rushed the heaving Yamcha, aiming a knockout blow at the square of his jaw.

"Gah… no!" At the last moment, Yamcha hopped into the air, pumping his foot into Tobler's head—a desperate kick to be sure. Both fighters connected, knocking each other backward and down onto the mat.

"Uhm, excuse me, sir." A monk of the Order addressed Piccolo, peering up at his high white shoulder pads. "I believe you have a match starting over in ring number 22."

Piccolo grunted, turning toward Tenshinhan. "I've got to see to that. You let me know which one of them gets up and finishes it." With a turn and a flourish of his cape the Namekian ended the exchange, moving away through the busy courtyard alongside the short old monk who had fetched him.

—(Will it be Yamcha or Tobler? And what about Piccolo?)—

Piccolo stepped with some hesitance into the ring, trying to get a feel for the strange artificial terrain of which it was made. Across from him stood a thin bald man of medium-height with pale bluish skin. The man bowed to him after a moment, although Piccolo did not return the gesture of respect.

The monk who had guided Piccolo to the ring stood beside it holding an enormously large ledger. He spoke at length, "Yes, yes, well… Piccolo from the Northern Galaxy, and you will be facing… Mishu from the Eastern Galaxy. Remember, no killing, no whining, keep any advertising or product-placement to a minimum… ahm, there's to be no overdoing of poses or power-up stances, no referencing past or future battles… please keep bragging to a minimum… you may not at any time question the soundness of your opponent's shoestrings…"

"Might we _get on with it_?" Piccolo glared at the monk.

"Oh, well, yes! You may begin when ready!"

Before the sound of the old monk's voice had faded from the air Piccolo was closing in on Mishu. With a fierce yell the Namekian swiped a clawed hand across the blue fellow's brow, slashing his face open and knocking him onto the ground. As Mishu attempted to recover himself, Piccolo moved in, slamming his foot into Mishu's abdomen with a wet thwacking sound. Which made sense, of course, because as his foot connected Mishu's body dissolved into a viscous bright blue liquid, washing over Piccolo's leg and pooling around his body.

"What? What in the—!?"

The blue stuff on his leg began to harden, weighing him down a good deal. Meanwhile Mishu's body reformed in front of him, bowing again in a gracious manner.

"You are fierce, yes, green one; but I fear this will be your last match."

Piccolo was caught up in frozen liquid, his legs rendered useless. Without further ado, Mishu began to lay into him, punishing his stomach and chest with a series of powerful and fast kicks. Every hit stunned him and broke his concentration, making his situation only that much more chaotic and confusing. Soon he could taste bitter blood in his mouth. All he could do to defend himself was try to hit Mishu's legs aside before they connected, and half of the time he only ended up directing the fellow's pointy shoes to some other location of his body.

"You will have to give up, green warrior! Soon your body will be too weak and you will fade!"

Mishu paused, gauging Piccolo's response. The Namekian heaved for a moment, and then, slowly, a chuckle came out of him.

"Eh!? You laugh at pain?"

"You're right," Piccolo huffed. "Without my legs it is difficult to out-maneuver you in this tiny space. But I have been hesitant to use my full power because I am saving my body for a more difficult match. There are many here stronger than you."

"Well you had better do something, hadn't you?"

"Once again you speak the truth." Piccolo grinned, his teeth purpled with blood. "I guess it's good for me that I only need half my power to take you out!"

"What?!"

Piccolo's body tensed and his ki flared. Certain heads in the courtyard turned, including Kaio-sama's. Suddenly, the Namekian split into two: one remained frozen in the blue goo, while the other seemed to spring right out of Piccolo—an exact copy of him, except with half the power. Mishu's eyes widened as the second Piccolo descended violently upon him, delivering a rocketing kick to his chest that launched him right out of the ring.

"That's the match! Ring out!" The monk wrote something down in the ledger and slammed it shut, bowing to Piccolo.

Piccolo shook the now-melted goo off of his legs as he remerged into one warrior again. He glanced toward the monk. "When he wakes up… tell him he left part of himself laying around in the ring."

Meanwhile, on the tower, Kaio-sama was watching the preliminaries with special interest. Being that the Northern Galaxy had only 4 participants while the other three had entered many times that number, it was important to him that the Z-Senshi carved their way through the first few preliminary heats. But more importantly he had his eye on a couple of fighters that did not seem to represent any of the cardinal galaxies… the silver-cloaked Kattatsu, and another strange dark warrior whose name he did not know, but from whom there radiated a chilling power…

* * *

Whoa! Long time no see huh? I'm so sorry that I took such a hiatus between the last chapter and this next one. Sometimes life runs you ragged and you kind of forget about some things. But I promise for all the people who were following this story that I'm going to regularly be updating from now until it's finished. You have my word. The tournament has officially begun and the next few chapters will deal with all the mystical warriors and amazing battles therein! Hope you enjoy, and please read/review, as always! 


	8. The Preliminaries! Part II

Author's Note: Distances between published chapters keep growing, and it's now been a few years since I started with this ambitious tale. A recent, kindhearted review has inspired me to continue it. You might find some differences in tone and writing style in this new chapter… simply because I have grown as a writer, if only slightly, over the years. I am determined to finish this story, even if it takes me the whole first half of my life. So… here we go!

Renewed disclaimer: Still don't own these characters or anything affiliated with Dragon Ball Z!

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Kaio picked at the rounded side of his head with a stubby finger, peering through dark sunglasses toward the wide face of a paper diagram that he held in his thick blue hands. It was a "pocket size" version of the Official Preliminary Matching Chart, and it was a failure by two stories: first, it was far too large to fit in any sort of pocket (probably it had been designed by some gargantuan demi-god out of the afterlife); secondly, it was too small to present the fight match-ups in any sort of legible script, so that the whole thing ended up looking like some poor canvas covered with haphazard dribbles of ink. Kaio may have had these endearing qualities in mind when he forcefully smashed and crumpled it between his meaty hands and threw it onto the ground, giving it a couple of fuming stomps.

"Grr! Nobody can read these things!" The outburst got the North Kaio some unwanted attention from his three rival deities, who began to chortle about his eyesight.

"Can't see… that's why he only brought four fighters to the tournament, you know…"

"They _look_ like sunglasses, but goodness knows they're prescription all the way…"

"I hear he uses that Monkey like a seeing-eye-dog. Hope he doesn't fall off the tower!"

"SHUT UP! I heard you all!" Kaio-sama stomped the tower loudly and turned his back to them, trying to ignore their squawking. But he ended up whirling around and letting loose another volley of sound and spittle.

"AND. JUST. SO. YOU. KNOW… Bubbles is a perfectly normal, perfectly normally-functioning monkey and he has some very important duties!"

South Kaio, the tallest of the bunch, chuckled haughtily and retorted, "Like what, pray tell? He do your cooking and cleaning? I _know_ he picks out your outfits…"

—(Push yourself hardest at the beginning of the fight.)—

Piccolo sat against stone, surrounded by a cool and comforting darkness. Deep in the distance he could hear the cheering of a crowd and the raucous sounds of the truly otherworldly fighting competition. If his love of battle could be rivaled by anything it would be his hatred for large groups of people, which he felt caused individuals to begin acting in completely foolish and irrational ways regardless of their race or gender. He found himself wishing his ears were not so acute, that he might be able to meditate in complete silence in the inner areas of the arena complex.

_So, everyone made it past the first heat. Kaio must be happy… probably going heavy on diatribes and desserts. Guess those three are stronger than I thought_.

Still, he felt troubled. The tournament didn't really feel like the focus anymore; instead, he felt compelled in a different direction, ever since the visit from the silver-cloaked warrior and his warning about the return of Garlic Sr.

_Hell. Even _if_ we make it to the end of the tournament, this whole place is probably going to go up in flames once Garlic attacks… and he will attack. Maybe we should be warning people. But that cloaked Namekian… he made it sound like it was Earth's fight. Are we in it alone? Am I in it alone?_

He was broken from the tranquility of his somewhat worrisome meditation by the sound of Tenshinhan's voice. He could tell right away that the man was out of breath.

"Piccolo! There you are! We've been looking all over for you; the second heat is about to start!"

Piccolo hesitated, then spoke. "Tenshinhan… I'm not going to participate."

The chamber was silent for a moment; Ten wore surprise all over his face. Then, gathering himself, he asked the first natural question any real warrior would.

"Well, why the hell not, Piccolo?"

"I don't think I'm powerful enough to win."

"What, are you kidding me? You? I know you, Piccolo… we've been dead together a long time. Even if you really didn't think you were strong enough, you'd still give it a shot. You're too full of yourself not to. So what's the real reason?"

Piccolo frowned visibly. He still didn't like sharing his motives with people, even acquaintances like Tenshinhan whom he had to be around almost all of his waking hours. Why did it matter? One less participant meant someone got a by and that was one less person to have to beat.

"Think about it," Piccolo said, his voice edged. "Garlic attacked us last night. I was almost destroyed because his minions jumped me. It's only a matter of time until he tries again—probably tonight. Do you really think we should be expending our strength on this tournament when there's a real threat afoot?"

"Well… yeah, I do."

"What?" Piccolo rose to his feet, facing Tenshinhan down. "And risk being completely obliterated? I thought you were smarter than that, Tenshinhan. It's just a tournament. Is it worth giving up your very existence over?"

Tenshinhan watched Piccolo carefully for a long moment, and, just when the air around them had become heavy with silence, he spoke.

"I'm completely out of my element here, Piccolo. I've slowly begun to understand that. Look at this place… this palace, these warriors gathered here. Some of them have abilities that I never thought possible. It's made me realize how small and fragile the Earth is compared to the rest of the universe, and how really insignificant humanity seems amidst this… vastness." Tenshinhan exhaled, his face visibly moved, three eyes seeming to stare into an unknown distance. "But the truth is that three out of the four beings chosen to represent the North Galaxy in the tournament are humans. And you… well, you might as well be one too."

Piccolo scowled and was about to speak when Tenshinhan continued.

"I mean… what I mean is… I don't think we become what we are because of how we were made. I think we grow into the places that we live, as they grow into us. There was a time in my life that I was blinded by power. I was a murderer, and I didn't care about anything except my own self-gain. I almost killed Chiaoutzu, my closest friend. Slowly I've begun to realize that despite how small and insignificant we may be, what makes us strong is our connection to the people around us. That's what makes Earth my home, a place I'm proud to represent in this tournament. And if I'm obliterated, or go to Hell, I don't mind… because I know that I died trying to protect my home from people who would try to destroy it. You died the same way, Piccolo, so I figure that makes you a bonafide earthling now." Tenshinhan smiled and his face was bright and strong.

The Namekian darkened, though not quite out of anger. "My death wasn't for the planet. I just didn't get out of the way of the Saiyan's blast in time. I won't that mistake ever again."

"Sure," Tenshinhan said, obviously not buying it. "Well, they're expecting the 512 of us to be in the fighting area soon. I'm going to go get my number." He turned and walked slowly from the room, disappearing into far shadows. Piccolo was left alone, standing in the stark soundlessness.

—(512 down! 508 more to go!)—

The arena was loud, perhaps even louder than when the preliminaries had began. The warriors who had made it to the second heat were consequently more relaxed, assured of their prowess; as a result they talked with more gusto, voices booming like shockwaves among the white stones and pillars around and upon which the grand structure was erected. Tenshinhan, Yamcha, and Chiaoutzu stood somewhere among the still-expansive throng, squinting at the tiny paper cards they had been handed which detailed the location of their next bout as well as the name of their opponent.

"You know," Yamcha said, screwing up his face to read the card, "If we keep going, it won't be long before we have to fight each other!"

Chiaoutzu nodded amiably. "I'd almost prefer to fight one of you. At least then I'd sort of know what to expect. I think _that_ guy is my next opponent," he sighed, pointing through the crowd at a large, squid-like green warrior with several tentacles and wearing a deep blue headband with "SHUMASHU" scrolled across it in what looked like black marker.

Yamcha chuckled. "Wow, Chiaoutzu, play your cards right and we might get some kalimari out of this!"

Suddenly the intercom came to life. SSHHRHRR… "HELLO AGAIN WARRIORS!" SSHHRHHSHSHIIIII. "HELLO! AND WELCOME TO THE TOURNAMENT! The gods and I are most pleased to see what a terrific turnout there's been—what? Huh? Oh! Yes! Ahem." SSHHRHH. "Welcome to the second round of preliminaries! I would like to give my sincerest congratulations to those of you who have made it this far! For those of you who haven't, I'm sure you gave it your best!" SHHRRRIII. "Without further ado let's get this next series of fights underway! There's going to be two-hundred and fifty-six battles over the next couple of days, from which a new, more elite group of warriors will emerge! HOW EXCITISHDHHSHRRR!!!"

"Well, think we should go see about these matches, since we're all fighting today," Yamcha said, becoming serious. "I'll meet you guys back here in a few! Good luck!"

Tenshinhan and Chiaoutzu waved to their friend. Then, turning and bowing to one another, they strode off in two different directions. As he walked, Tenshinhan overheard a gruff voice spewing loud complaints.

"What do you MEAN he isn't here?! I WANT MY MATCH!"

Tenshinhan spotted the source of the commotion. A sallow-eyed, complacent-looking monk was attempting to deal with a tall, very muscular woman (or, at least, a humanoid) with dark brown skin, black hair, and one large in the middle of her face. She had six arms and was jabbing at the monk from every direction for answers, to which he could only mutter helplessly in an attempt to appease her.

"Miss, please! He hasn't been seen! We're trying—"

"I GOT YOUR MISS RIGHT HERE PUDGY! How's about WE go at it instead?!"

"Please, you'll just have to sit this round out. But you'll get to go on to the next heat for free!"

As he continued to walk the woman's booming voice faded into the overall din of the preliminary area. He arrived at the small circular ring in which he was to fight his match, discovering that his opponent was already there and had been waiting for him. He suddenly detected a ki that sent a shiver up his spine.

—(Three battles means thrice the action!)—

"Begin!"

Chiaoutzu panicked a little as the tentacled beast Shumashu came at him with every sucker poised for destruction; he dived out of the way as a car-wash-like battery of limbs flopped onto the ground where he had been moments before, making a series of noisome thwacking noises. He winced, noticing that one of his small feet was hugging the line that was the perimeter of the ring.

"That was close. He's so big and slow… at least I'll be able to see him coming."

"MASHU MASHU MASHU!" Shumashu slowly turned, its body sucking and dragging across the ground, beginning to lumber toward Chiaoutzu.

"Man, he sounds like a fish on steroids. Ack!"

Chiaoutzu's heart leaped as the monster moved in more quickly than he had expected, another series of tentacles dragging across the ground toward him, their little suction cups glowing with ki energy.

"Gotta stop him!" Chiaoutzu leaped away from the ring softly, floating up into the air; he cleared his mind, beginning to focus on Shumashu's tentacles; soon, he had them ensnared by mental energy, holding them fast with his telekinetic power.

"SHUUUUUUUUU!!" The creature howled angrily and began to thrash itself around, struggling to break free of the doll-like human's hold.

_Well, that worked… now what do I do?_ Chiaoutzu found himself beginning to doubt his chance to win. Even if he could hold Shumashu at bay with his mind all day long, how could he win if he couldn't physically beat him somehow?

"Gotta try! HAAAA!" The emperor dropped to the ring and charged forward quickly, jumping and extending one powerful leg. His flying kick connected with the middle of Shumashu's body, which was sort of spongy and wet even in the dry heat of the day, and he found himself being bounced away with as much force as if he had kicked himself instead of Shumashu. He tumbled away onto the floor of the ring, losing his mental focus. The beast roared its freedom into the air and came at Chiaoutzu again, appendages flopping around like big ropes saturated with seawater.

He ducked one, leaped another. His heart was pounding in his throat. He turned just in time to push an open palm against a third tentacle, knocking it back toward the beast; it flopped against an incoming arm weakly and was soon heading his way again.

_This is impossible! He's going to tire me out in no time unless I think of something!_

— (Tenshinhan vs. Yo-Ma)—

The creature grinned and its teeth, rows over rows of unsightly fangs, glimmered in the afternoon brightness.

"Tenshinhan?" Its voice hissed like a snake's. "Hehe. You are one of the ones I must kill. Do you want to hear how I will do it?"

With his three eyes Tenshinhan sized the creature up. It was tall, a little taller than him, and was wrapped in a ubiquitous amount of purple robes. Its face was somewhat human, but sort of oblong, with a flattened nose and big excited cheekbones. It looked like some kind of serpent person. And its power felt terrible and dark.

"No thanks," Tenshinhan replied. "You can just show me whenever you get a chance," he said, his visage grim and focused.

"Hehe. Excellent, sir, excellent! I have written a book on the anticipation of death."

"You mean… you've written 'the' book."

"No, really! It's called _What To Expect When You're Expecting… A Terrible Demise_. A really bargain at most major outlets."

"Uhh… okay. Well, I don't want to keep you waiting then. Let's do this."

_This guy feels… incredibly strong_. _I'll be lucky if I make it ten minutes. But… this is what I have to do_.

Tenshinhan and Yo-Ma (apparently the author of many books about death) moved simultaneously into the ring, and the match began.

_This is what I have to do._

Ten lowered into a defensive stance, thinking in a slow but somehow infinite and timeless manner of the manifold battles that dotted and sometimes darkened his past. In all but a few of them he had been victorious, always finding a way to overpower his opponent and break their defenses. But it was his recklessness on Earth, his inability to truly calculate the Saiyan Nappa's strength, that had led to his painful death. He didn't want to make that mistake here, because it would cost him everything.

Suddenly Yo-Ma sprung, his mouth opening, jaw seeming to unhinge as his sharp teeth spread inhumanly far apart; a fountain of hot green ichor sloshed out toward Tenshinhan, who instinctively leapt to one side, darting around the lithe robed creature and ramming a sharp elbow into the back of his head. Yo-Ma stumbled away, but turned quickly, aiming a pointy, booted foot at Tenshinhan, who deftly ducked and proceeded to thrust an open palm into Yo-Ma's quivering abdomen with all of his might.

The action within the ring died down for a moment as the creature opened its mouth again, though this time it was to gasp desperately for air that it did not have.

_I've got to finish this quickly!_

Tenshinhan began to focus his ki, concentrating on the hand that was pressed into the snake creature's body. He could feel it, himself, coming alive, a warm lightless light growing from within his body. All of this took place in mere moments, in less-than-seconds, and soon the energy was prepared. A loud voice burst into his head.

**Tenshinhan!! No! You can't kill him! He's the last one—**

Kaio-sama's voice was cut off as the mental link closed, replaced by excruciating pain. Yo-Ma's claws were buried into Tenshinhan's shoulder-blades, and both knees were pressed into his chest. Suddenly he was on the floor of the ring, skin ripped open and chest swaying with an agonizing heave.

"Foolish," Yo-Ma hissed, raising his arms in a kind of triumph, the droopy purple sleeves of his clothing hanging down like drapes around his body. "I suppose Master was right. Earthlings are weak as well as utterly idiotic."

Tenshinhan was raising himself up with some effort when the creature attacked again, kicking him across the face. He fell to one knee, and took a hammer-like fist blow to the top of his skull. The arena began to spin around him and he could taste the bitter red dirt on which they had been fighting.

—(A choice of fates.)—

"Wow, I'm fighting _you_?!"

Kattatsu smiled to Yamcha; his expression was both encouraging and regretful. He said nothing in reply.

Yamcha frowned. _What a strange guy. I can't read what he's thinking. Maybe if I goad him a bit more… usually works._

"You know," Yamcha continued, full of bravado, "I've been waiting for a chance to kick Piccolo's ass for a while now. Guess now I get to take on his whole family!"

"I think you'll find," Kattatsu said after a moment, "That fighting me is somewhat different than fighting Piccolo. You see, Namekians practice a gentle kind of caste system. Even though we are all equal, we all serve a function in our global community, and we begin working toward it at birth. Most of us are farmers. A few are warriors. And even fewer are mystics… sorcerors of a sort. Like Kami."

_Kami!_ _But then…_

"Why isn't Piccolo?" Kattatsu smiled at Yamcha's surprised expression. "Well, he is an anomaly of a sort, and definitely a different kind of Namekian. Although he has the potential to be a seer as Kami is, he chooses to fight because it is in his blood. But that's enough about that… let us begin."

"So which kind are you?"

Yamcha froze. Literally. His arms became pinned to his sides as if by rope and his ankles locked together as if by brace. He struggled to move, in panic, but some unseen force was holding him fast. Slowly, he began to feel a sort of inner-calm, a peacefulness that washed over his senses. The world around him faded, and a vision grew before his mind's eye…

… _He was back on Earth, at the Kame House. He was sitting around the table and all of his friends were there, and he was drinking some sort of delicious (spiked) punch out of his favorite mug, the one with his name on it. Amidst the excited chatter and laughter he heard a door open, and suddenly everyone started singing. Bulma walked toward him smiling and carrying a large cake blazing with a forest of candles. Her eyes sparkled and her hair swayed perfectly as she moved. It was his birthday._

—(SHUUUU!)—

He was exhausted. But still going. Chiaoutzu managed another backflip, dodging one of Shumashu's hefty tentacles; his whole body was burning with ache. Coming to his feet, he watched in dismay as the creature reared back to send an overpowering volley of suctioning arms toward him, perhaps for the last time. This had been going on for what felt like an hour, and he had barely managed to do anything more than scratch the creature; all he could do was get out of its way. Suddenly an idea occurred to him.

_Of course!_ _Why didn't I think of that already!_

Chiaoutzu turned and began to back away slowly, just as he had done before. He edged his feet carefully, aligning his heels with the partition that divided the small preliminary ring from the out-of-bounds area outside.

_Okay, c'mon… _

Shumashu lurched forward again and dropped a few tentacles with a ferocious effort toward Chiaoutzu's body. Mustering what was left of his physical strength, Chiaoutzu leaped into the air, watching as the large blue-green arms curled into the space below him. The tips just barely crossed the ring-line.

_Now!_

Falling downward, he kicked the tip of his small foot valiantly against the monster's arm; it dropped to the ground with a squishy, vacuous noise.

"Ring out!" The monk who had been watching their battle from ringside held up a small card, and pointed with his free hand to Shumashu's tentacle, which was stuck fast to the ground outside of the ring.

"Yes!" Chiaoutzu panted, dropping to the ground behind Shumashu. Viciously unsticking its arm, the creature roared noisily and turned on Chiaoutzu. It lifted up its great Cthulhuan appendages and brought them together before itself, lowering its head slightly and giving the emperor a modest little bow.

—(Blue to yellow to orange to pink to purple to black)—

Yamcha awoke in the glow of twilight, finding himself laying outside of a small fighting ring. He shook his head to clear it, getting to his feet; it dawned upon him slowly what had happened.

"Dammit! That sneaky sonofagrasshopper!"

When he got back to the temple that the four of them and Kaio had been using as their base of operations (as their room had been basically destroyed) he found Kaio-sama and Chiaoutzu waiting on him. Both of them looked extremely worried. Kaio perked up when he saw Yamcha coming in.

"There you are! I've been trying to contact you!" His voice, usually genial, was tense with stress and even somewhat scolding.

"Sorry, Lord… my second fight was against Kattatsu and he used some kind of mental trick on me. It completely knocked me out."

"I see… well, at least _you're_ accounted for."

"What do you mean?"

Chiaoutzu burst into tears. "Tenshinhan is missing! The last thing I remember was seeing him preparing to fight, and now he's gone and the monks don't know what happened!"

Yamcha asked, "Well, don't you know what happened, Kaio-sama?"

"Afraid not… I've been too busy trying to figure out what happened to Piccolo."

"Huh? You mean he's gone too?"

Kaio nodded grimly. "He didn't show up to his fight today. Disqualified. And we haven't seen him or heard from him since the first preliminary heat. He's blocking my telepathy somehow, so I have no idea where he could be."

Chiaoutzu sniffed. "I won my fight, at least. But it doesn't really mean much. I feel like something terrible is happening, or is about to happen."

"It is," a voice said quietly from the doorway, "almost time."

The three of them turned to see Kattatsu's silvery form standing in the doorway, his green skin a darker shade for the night air behind him.

The Namekian stepped into the temple. "Garlic, I feel, is going to make a more drastic move tomorrow. I believe then we'll discover the location of both Piccolo and your friend Tenshinhan," he said, eyes drifting with veiled kindness to the tear-wet face of Chiaoutzu.

Kaio-sama stepped forward, hands clasped behind his wide frame. "Do you know something about why Piccolo left the tournament?"

"Perhaps. But I won't tell you," Kattatsu remarked coolly.

"Hrm… well do you know where he is now?"

"Yes."

"And you'll tell us?"

"No."

Yamcha started forward, brandishing a fist. "I oughta make you tell us! Piccolo and Tenshinhan could be in real trouble right now!"

Kaio-sama spoke slowly, in a way that reminded everyone present that he was, although lighthearted, still a high god, "No more violence today, Yamcha. I believe that he is withholding this information for Piccolo's sake, and not simply to toy with us."

Yamcha frowned, but nodded to Kaio.

Kattatsu spoke again. "I can tell you that whenever Garlic chooses to act, we'll have to respond quickly and in a coordinated fashion, or else it is likely that Tenshinhan will be killed. I suggest you two get some rest. Kaio-sama, your grace, if you would please come with me."

Nodding, Kaio strode out of the temple accompanying the Namekian, and the two of them began to stride upon an old path that led away from the temple into a nearby grove. What they talked about only the gods may know.

Yamcha and Chiaoutzu laid awake in the temple for some time.

"Yamcha, I'm beginning to regret coming here," Chiaoutzu said, breaking the long silence that had befallen the holy place after Kaio and Kattatsu had departed. He stared up wide-eyed at the high stone ceiling, eyes becoming lost in its solemnly-shaped shadows.

"I hear you, Chiaoutzu. But regrets won't help us much now. We need to do our best with what we can right now. I'm sure Kaio will have a plan in the morning. And you need to focus on the tournament, since you're the only one of us who's still in it. Tenshinhan would be so proud if you won."

Chiaoutzu smiled sadly. "I know… but… what chance do I have? I'm the weakest one of us! I'm not a fighter… I just do it so I can stay with Tenshinhan."

"Well, you've done pretty well so far, buddy. I think all you have to do now is just try your best. You're Earth's champion now." Yamcha smiled over at Chiaoutzu, and high above them, further than they could see, stars began to appear in the thick blue sky—old orbs that glowed with sustained brilliance, who carried the burden of a thousand years of wishing.


End file.
